Going Under
by ConflictedCalypso
Summary: Quinn receives an unexpected, and broken, visitor in the early hours of the morning. Can she put her back together again? Eventual Quinntana, set in season four. Now completed.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:**_

_**Okay, so I've had this idea brewing for ages, now. I actually started this way back in December with the intention of it becoming completely different than what I intend now.**_

_**As far as I'm concerned I'm going to scrap everything after the Thanksgiving episode that's happened in canon, aside from Bram getting together cause that's kind of necessary for the plot. **_

_**If you might be interested in being a beta for this story I'd be extremely grateful if you dropped me a message - trying to keep these two in-character is difficult, at times, and I'd love some help in that respect. **_

_**I don't own Glee, obviously, and the title comes from the wonderful Evanescence song, which I also do not own. Sadly. **_

_**Aside from that, I don't think there's much else to say - this is my first multi-chapter Quinntana fic, so be gentle with me ;) **_

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Quinn Fabray sighed heavily, re-reading the same line in her psychology textbook for the fourth time before slamming the cover shut heavily, annoyed that she couldn't concentrate, even though the essay wasn't due in for another four weeks.

It was ten o' clock on Friday night, and she was sitting in her room alone, working. It was such a far cry from what she could have been doing a year ago when she was back in Lima that it would have been laughable had it not been so pathetic.

College was supposed to be her big break into the world, she'd thought that leaving behind her parents, starting anew, would have been the greatest time of her life, but the reality was decidedly… less.

She didn't really fit in at Yale, not as study-crazy as most of the student body, and not really fitting in with any of the clubs and society's here. She had a handful of friends, sure, but not ones that invited her out often, not even tonight, to celebrate the arrival of the Christmas holidays.

Most of the students that lived in this building with her would be moving back home for the holidays, but not her – she was staying here for as long as possible, only heading home on the 21st December. She'd tried her best to get away with staying at Yale for the entire four weeks, but her Mother had eventually persuaded her to come back at least for a few days.

Part of the reason she was so hesitant to go back home was the slightly disastrous time she'd had at Thanksgiving. Somehow she'd managed to piss off her best friend, Santana, at the same time as making up several fantastic lies about her wonderful her life at Yale was.

Like the one that she was sleeping with her Professor. Definitely a lie – he was approaching sixty years old, and just the thought of him touching her made her want to vomit. And it was all because she'd been jealous. Everyone else had been living it up, having an amazing time out of Ohio, and she was just drifting along here without anyone even noticing her.

How far she'd fallen since graduation. If the class of McKinley high could see her now, they'd probably laugh – their Queen Bee, reduced to nothing. It made her blood boil.

Deciding that she wasn't going to get any further work done that night, the blonde retreated to her bed, booting up her laptop as she settled under the red comforter, trying to keep warm – the temperature in New Haven was dropping every day.

The blonde logged into Facebook as soon as her laptop was on, wondering what all her old friends were up to this weekend. She studiously ignored the pang she felt when she saw Rachel's name on her newsfeed – the brunette clearly had enough time to update her status, but not the time to reply to the blonde's fortnightly emails.

Another lie she'd told when she'd been back home. Rachel wasn't the one begging her to come and visit her – Quinn only wished she would. Not that she would ever admit that aloud to another soul, though. Those thoughts were for her mind only.

The blonde's eyes widened slightly in shock when she read Brittany's name – and change in relationship status. Apparently the blonde was dating Sam now, and Quinn felt another pang, praying that she'd told Santana before putting it online for the whole world to see. Surely the cheerleader couldn't be so cruel.

Quinn itched to grab her phone and text the brunette, ask if she was okay, but she couldn't do it. She was ashamed of the way she'd acted towards her during that fateful meeting in the choir room, disgusted that she'd taken out her self-hatred on the one girl who probably understood her better than she even knew herself.

Sure, they fought like siblings, had screamed that they hated each other countless times, and had ended up in physical fights on more than one occasion, but through it all they remained friends. They always patched things up, but something told Quinn that she'd gone too far this time. She'd stepped over a line, and she didn't know how to step back.

The blonde closed the window hastily, her nostalgia already running high – there was no need to further it. She decided instead to shove a movie into the DVD drive, curling onto her side on the bed and pressing her back into the wall, laying the laptop on the bed beside her so she could watch while she was lying down.

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew she was being awoken by a desperate pounding on her bedroom door, and when she opened her eyes the room was dark, the laptop screen long ago gone black.

Disorientated, she scrambled to her feet, running a hand absently through her bedhair, and made her way cautiously over to the door, which was reverberating from the force being applied from the other side.

Taking a deep breath and telling herself that it was very unlikely that there would be a serial killer on the other side, she pulled the door open warily, her expression changing to downright shock as she saw who was on the other side.

"Santana?" Her voice expressed her disbelief, and she wondered if she was dreaming, because surely after their slapping match just a few short weeks ago there was no way that the Latina would be turning up at her door, unannounced.

But then Quinn's blurry eyes registered the tears falling down the brunette's face, the way her arms, no longer pounding on the door, had wrapped around her body, as though she was holding herself together.

And when the brunette's eyes raised to lock with the blonde's hazel ones, Quinn almost stopped breathing, because never, in her whole life, had she ever seen someone look so utterly and completely broken.

Especially not this woman, the one who had been through so much, but who had stood tall through it all. Who had dealt with being outed to the entire high school, but managed to rise from the ashes even stronger than she had been before.

"C-can I come in?" Her voice was quiet, but Quinn still heard the anguish, the pain, and stepped hastily aside, allowing the brunette across the threshold and into the tiny room. She stopped in the middle, arms still wrapped around her torso, and let out a choked sob that broke the blonde's heart.

She let the door fall shut and crossed the short distance over to the brunette, pulling her wordlessly into a hug, feeling her stiffen at the contact and just squeezing tightly. Eventually, Santana gave up trying to fight the blonde, and Quinn felt her sag into her, nearly falling from having to hold the other woman upright.

The Latina's head rested against the blonde's neck, as her hands dropped and fisted in Quinn's white tank top, and she cried. She shook from the force of her tears, and Quinn had absolutely no idea what to do, no clue how to comfort her friend, so she just stood, her arms around the brunette's waist and her forehead resting ontop of Santana's lowered head.

She lost all concept of time as they stood there (not that she had any idea what time it was anyway), but it must have been several minutes before the brunette started to quiet, and when she eventually pulled back her eyes were red, and the blonde's shirt was soaked from her tears, but Quinn didn't care. She was just relieved that Santana had stopped crying.

"I'm sorry about your shirt," the brunette murmured after a few seconds of heavy silence, and tried to crack a smile through the pain, but it ended up as more of a grimace.

"It's fine," Quinn whispered back, unsure why she felt the need to keep her voice down. She reached up with one hand to gently wipe away the tears that still lined the brunette's cheeks, wishing she knew how to make it better.

"I didn't know where else to go." There was the agony again, lacing her every word, and Quinn felt her heart break for her – she couldn't imagine what the brunette was feeling. Sure, she'd gone through break-ups before, but… Santana had been in love with Brittany for years. She had never felt anything nearly as strong as what the two of them had had.

"How did you even get here?"

"I drove."

"What? Are you insane? That's like, an eleven hour journey!"

"I didn't know where else to go," Santana repeated, her head dropping to the blonde's collarbone again, content to just stand there for a moment, and Quinn's arms wrapped more tightly around the brunette's waist.

"You're crazy," she breathed into her friend's hair, even more worried about her now that she knew how she'd gotten herself to New Haven – considering the state she was in it was a miracle that she hadn't been in an accident.

"I couldn't stay at home. Not when… Not when I could run into them. What does she see in him?"

"I don't know, S."

"What did you see in him?" Dark eyes lifted to lock with her own, and Quinn it her lip, unsure how to answer the question. What had drawn her to Sam? It was a difficult question for her; she didn't like talking about her relationships as a general rule, and Santana certainly never asked.

"I… Honestly? I dated him because he was there. He wanted to be with me, and I didn't want to be lonely anymore."

"That doesn't help," Santana muttered, frustrated, finally looking away from the blonde's eyes and focusing her gaze on the wall behind her.

"I'm sorry." It was the best Quinn could do, and she hated that she couldn't do more. She still didn't know how to help, but maybe she was just by being here. "And I'm sorry I slapped you, too."

"I kinda deserved it." The brunette cracked a genuine smile then, even though it didn't reach her eyes. "So did you, though."

"Never said I didn't."

"Can I stay here tonight?"

"Of course you can, you can stay as long as you want. I'm just going to go to the bathroom; I'll be back in a minute. Make yourself at home." Santana nodded and the blonde slipped out of her room, heading for the bathroom at the bottom of the hall.

It was quiet, eerily so, which made her think that it was the early hours of the morning. The bathroom was completely empty, unsurprisingly, and she paused for a moment at the mirror, eyeing herself critically – taking note of the smudged make-up under her eyes, the way her hair stuck up in every direction after she'd fallen asleep. Every imperfection amplified under the horrible lighting.

With a sigh she turned away, knowing from past experience that staring at her reflection for long periods of time only ended up making her feel worse about herself. Insecurity was a constant in her life now. It had always been there, hovering beneath the surface of her 'perfect' persona, but now… Now, here, surrounded by nothing but cruel reminders of the life she'd used to lead, it consumed her.

When she returned to her room a handful of minutes later, Santana was sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the floor, hands twisted in the red comforter. She didn't look up as the door opened, and Quinn hesitated, uncertain, on the threshold of her own room, wondering how everything had gone so awfully wrong for the both of them in just a few short weeks.

"Are you planning on standing there all night, Q?" Santana's head finally lifted, her eyes, now dry but still tinged with an aching pain that the blonde could only imagine, meeting hazel. Quinn had to fight a smile at the nickname – she couldn't remember the last time she'd called her Q.

Too long ago. Another era entirely.

"No," she strode forward, the door falling closed with a soft click behind her, and moved towards the closet, pulling out two sets of pyjamas and throwing one set wordlessly over to the brunette on the bed. "Did you bring any clothes?"

"No. I… I didn't even think about packing anything before I was on the road."

"That's okay. You can borrow some of my stuff or we can go shopping tomorrow." She didn't turn around as she stripped off the tank top and shimmied out of her jeans before tugging on the patterned shorts and matching top, unhooking her bra once it was on and putting the clothes she'd been wearing in a neat pile on her desk chair.

"Neat freak," she heard Santana mutter from behind her, but she didn't comment on it, didn't have the energy. She was exhausted, mentally and physically, from the week she'd had, and all she wanted to do was sink into bed and sleep the night (and following morning) away. "You can turn around, you know. Not like we haven't changed in-front of each other before."

Biting her lip delicately, the blonde spun to face the room, leaning back against the desk so that the back of thighs pushed against the wood. The brunette was already half-dressed, and she forced her eyes away, knowing that her gaze was likely to linger at slender legs, toned abs and perfectly formed (even if it was man-made) chest – and not wanting Santana to notice. That was the last thing she needed.

When her fellow ex-Cheerio was finally finished changing, they both slid under the covers of the blonde's tiny single bed wordlessly, trying and failing to make the atmosphere less awkward. Quinn turned so that she was facing the wall, her back to Santana's. It had been so long since she'd shared a bed with someone, be it innocently or otherwise, that she was now completely unused to it – it was strange, to feel the body heat of another person against her back, to hear someone else's soft breathing.

And then, a moment later, a choked sob.

"Santana," she whispered, wanting desperately to take the other girl's pain away but having no idea how to do it. She rolled over so that she was facing the brunette's back. "I'm sorry you're hurting."

"Fat lot of good that does me, Quinn," came the scathing reply, and even though the venom in the brunette's words made the blonde flinch, she thought that at least maybe being a bitch to her might made Santana feel better.

"I'm just trying to help," she muttered darkly, unable to stop herself from answering even though she didn't really want to, wasn't in the mood to spar with her old partner in crime.

"Well you suck at it." Quinn sighed, all of the fight going out of her as she sagged against the pillows, pressing her back against the wall, leaving as much space as physically possible between the two of them. She had a feeling that it was going to be a long night.

"I'm sorry, Q." Quinn wasn't quite sure how long had passed before she heard the quiet apology from the brunette – so quiet, in fact, that she wondered for a moment that perhaps she'd imagined it. "I know I'm being a bitch."

"It's fine, S." It wasn't, really, but she wasn't about to ruin the temporary truce by admitting that. Only Santana was able to wind her up like this, to drive her insane by the way she acted – and she was also the one person that the blonde was never able to tell to back down. Sure, she'd tried, in the past, but not hard enough – not as hard as she would try for anyone else. Santana was the only one in high school that had dared to stand up to her, and maybe it was that destructive part of their friendship that made it work, fucked-up as it was.

"No, it's not," the brunette sighed, but said no more. Quinn's eyes closed, trying again to fall into that elusive, blissful unconsciousness, but sleep wouldn't come. Her mind wouldn't keep quiet – she kept wondering if Santana was crying silently beside her, of what she should do to try and be a better friend – of how she'd been a horrible friend.

She was always haunted, at night. When she should have been sleeping she lay awake, wondering, musing over the past, her regrets, her failures, her faults. She wished she could fall asleep as easily as she before, distracted by a DVD.

Frustrated, she rolled over yet again, resting her forehead against the wall this time, one arm curling underneath her pillow, the other lying at her side. "Jeez, Q, can you stop fidgeting?" But there was no malice in Santana's tone, only weariness.

"Sorry," the blonde muttered back – she was apologising a lot today, she noted. Probably more times today, in-fact, than at any other point in her life. She wondered if Santana had noticed that, too.

She felt movement beside her, and was about to tell her to stop fidgeting, when she felt the brunette's body against her back, a source of immeasurable warmth. Her body was taut, unable to relax now that Santana had moved so close, and she had no idea how she was supposed to react – when had everything become such a source of confusion, taken so long for her to agonize over?

"Will you just relax?" She felt Santana's breath, hot on the back of her neck, and her own breath caught in her throat.

"I am relaxed," she whispered back, but they both knew that was a lie.

"Why are you making things so awkward?"

"I'm not trying to." Her voice was more of a hiss then, irritation shining through, and she felt rather than heard Santana's amused chuckle from behind her. "Just go to sleep."

"I would, but a certain blonde ex-cheerleader is making that impossible."

"_You're_ impossible," she breathed, but she wasn't sure if the Latina heard her – she stayed silent, and Quinn stretched slightly, already uncomfortable from the awkward position she was lying in. Single beds were definitely not made for two people - especially two people who wanted to keep some space in-between them.

"Are you ever going to sleep?"

"I'm not used to sharing a bed with someone else, okay?"

"What, your sugar daddy professor not down for sleepovers?" Quinn flushed, face flaming in the darkness, anger running through her veins at the snark in Santana's voice, her hand curling into a fist at her side, nails biting into her palms.

"Shut up, Santana," was the response that came to her lips, spat through gritted teeth.

"Oh, wow, you're so eloquent, Q. Yale is doing wonders for your vocabulary."

"I said, shut up!" She rolled over so she was facing the brunette, with fire burning in her eyes, the smirk on the brunette's mouth only serving to amplify her anger.

"Or what, Q? You'll set him on me?" A low growl escaped Quinn's lips as Santana's lips curled further, and without even thinking, she shoved the brunette backwards, hard. She hadn't been expecting it, and it sent her toppling off the edge of the bed, landing with an undignified oomph of surprise. "What the fuck, Quinn?" She snarled, as the blonde peered down at her from where she was still lying, fuming.

"Don't act like you didn't deserve it." The brunette stayed where she was, sprawled across the floor, glaring up at the blonde. Quinn stared right back, not intimidated in the slightest.

"Is it my fault that you're so ashamed of yourself for fucking a guy that's what, twenty years older than you, just so you can trick yourself into thinking that somebody, somewhere, feels something for you that isn't disgust?"

Quinn flinched at the brunette's words, tears springing to her eyes as she recoiled against the wall, sitting on her haunches now, back pressing against the cool surface. She felt winded, as though someone had punched her, as hard as they could, right in the centre of her chest – and, she supposed, that was the equivalent of what Santana had just done.

"Shit, Q, I'm sorry." The brunette scrambled onto her knees, hands resting lightly on the surface of the bed as she tried to lock gazes with the blonde. "I'm sorry. I'm such a jerk. I… I shouldn't be taking everything that I'm feeling out on you; you didn't ask for me to be here. I should just go."

"You always do that." Quinn's voice cut through the silence of the room, stopping Santana in her tracks – she was at the door, hand resting on the handle, but at the sound of the blonde's voice she paused, turning around slowly.

"Do what?" Her voice was quiet, contrite, and Quinn wondered whether that was caused more by the regret she felt for the things she'd said or a direct result of the tears that Quinn knew were running freely from her eyes.

"Run away when things get rough. You're a coward." She saw the muscle in Santana's jaw twitch, the one that let Quinn know that she was a second away from speaking her mind – usually angrily. "I know there's something you want to say, S, why don't you just spit it out? You had no trouble doing it before. After all, how hard can it be to be honest with someone who disgusts you?"

"Quinn, I…" She trailed off, taking three steps forward before pausing, biting down on her bottom lip roughly. "I never meant that."

"Then why did you say it?"

"Because it's what I think of myself." The honest, frank answer surprised the blonde – the Latina rarely spoke about her feelings, if ever. And certainly not so openly. "And I shouldn't be taking things out on you. I just…"

"It's what you're used to." Silence fell, then, both of them just staring, trying to figure the other out. Quinn was exhausted, and Santana looked like she was, too. Quinn could hardly blame her – after all, it was a killer journey to get here. "Just… get back in bed, Santana. We can talk more in the morning."

She didn't wait for a reply, just rolled over so that her back was to the brunette once more, and wiped hastily at her eyes, appalled that she'd let herself cry in-front of someone else. It wasn't the first time, of course, but it still didn't make it any less humiliating.

The bed dipped behind her a few moments later, under Santana's weight, and then there was a warm body beside her once more, but she still felt empty. Had been, now, for a long time – what she'd give, just to feel something again.

Anything, other than the anger and the bitterness and the hate and the self-loathing. Anything was better than that.

She felt Santana shift, trying to get comfortable under the covers, and a leg brushed against her own as she did. The blonde didn't move, tried to even her breathing in an effort to get herself to sleep quicker, and didn't even react when the brunette's leg slid fully between her own, and a warm arm slid across her waist, and a chest pressed against her back.

She was too exhausted to question it.

x-x-x

It was blindingly light when the blonde woke the next morning, the sun filtering easily through the shitty drapes that Yale supplied, and threw an arm over her eyes in an attempt to block it out. It was too early for sun, she decided, even though she had no idea what time it was. Didn't even really care what time it was, either.

She could feel Santana behind her, breath brushing against the back of her neck with every fall of her chest. There was no longer an arm slung across her body, but Santana's leg was still tangled up in her own, and she couldn't bring herself to care about that, either.

It wasn't long before the brunette was stirring behind her, but she still didn't move. She was practically pressed against the wall, her forehead resting against the cold plaster, staying there even when she felt Santana roll off the bed, the door shutting a few moments later.

Quinn hoped that she was going to the bathroom and not leaving, but she doubted that the brunette would go anywhere in her pyjamas. She moved to lie on her back, stretching her arms over her head and letting out a satisfied sigh when the joints cracked, and grabbed her phone to check the time.

It was ten o' clock, which was usually a lot later than she'd wake up, but considering the fitful night sleep she'd had it was hardly surprising. She decided that she may as well get up sooner rather than later, and regretfully slipped out of the warm bed and over to the sink that stood in one corner of her room, brushing her teeth before grabbing a pair of jeans and a shirt for the day ahead.

She'd just pulled on her bra and underwear when her bedroom door opened and Santana re-appeared, faltering a little in her tracks as her eyes took in the blonde's state of undress, and unless Quinn was imagining it, definitely lingering at her chest.

"Are you ever gonna shut that door, S? Can't say I really want the whole floor to see me in my underwear."

"At least they're an appropriate age to be seeing you naked," the brunette replied flippantly as she shut the door and strode back over to the bed without another glance in the blonde's direction. Quinn rolled her eyes, unable to even be surprised that her comment had brought Santana out on the offensive.

"Whatever," she sighed, turning away to pull on the rest of her clothes. When she was done she perched on her desk chair, gaze finally returning to the brunette who was sat with her arms crossed on the edge of the bed, watching her.

She didn't look quite as broken as she had last night, but the echo of that pain was still written across her face, and it was clear to the blonde that it wasn't going to go away any time soon. And she still had no idea how to help her.

"Still want to go shopping today?"

"Sure. I can't be dealing with your shitty clothes for much longer, anyway." Quinn bit her lip to stop a scathing remark in return, and ignoring the challenge in Santana's dark gaze as their eyes locked. "You're a lot less fun now, you know."

Still, she didn't answer, though she couldn't say any longer if it was just because she thought Santana was only lashing out because Quinn had seen her so wrecked the night before, or if she was just simply too exhausted to.

She was too old for this, she decided as she watched Santana sigh at her in frustration before standing and rooting through the blonde's closet, probably searching for something that she deemed appropriate to wear.

"I'm ready to go whenever you are," Santana muttered a few minutes later, looking anywhere but directly at Quinn as she leant against the wall beside the bedroom door, hands jammed in the pockets of the pair of insanely tight black jeans she'd found.

"Okay, then. Come on." She stood and held the door open for the brunette, locking it behind them before they fell into step beside each other and headed down the stairs, eventually emerging out into the cold Connecticut air.

"Did you have to pick somewhere so cold?" Santana was the first one to break the stony silence they'd found themselves in, as they were crossing the road that led towards the nearest row of shops. She had no idea what Santana wanted, but she figured she could let the brunette take the lead when they got there.

"It's not so bad."

"Are you kidding? It's fucking freezing, Q."

"You were the one that didn't bring a coat." Santana just made a face at her in response, and Quinn smiled, the first genuine one for a while. If it was going to be like this, easy like back in the old days, then she could get used to them spending time together.

Silence fell between them again, but this was more comfortable than the last. It was broken by the sound of Santana's phone ringing, insistently in her pocket – when she retrieved it and glanced at the screen, her face fell, and Quinn didn't need to ask to know how it was.

"It's Brittany," the brunette murmured, voice anguished, and Quinn's hand automatically went to the small of Santana's back, as though to steady her. "What do I do?" She looked to the blonde with grief-stricken eyes, the pair having come to a stop halfway down the street.

"I… I don't know. Do you want me to answer it?" The only answer she received was a nod, so she pried the cellphone out of Santana's hand and lifted it gingerly to her ear. "Hello?"

_"Quinn?"_ Brittany's voice came through, sounding awfully confused. _"Did I dial the wrong number?_"

"No, Brit, you didn't."

_"Oh. So you're with Santana?"_

"Yeah, I am."

_"Can I talk to her?"_

"No."

_"Why not? I need to, Sam said I should tell her that we're together otherwise she might be upset."_

"Uh, Brit, I think it's a little late for that."

_"What do you mean?"_

"Look, I have to go. Don't… don't try and call this number again." She hung up without waiting for the other blonde to respond, handing the phone back to Santana without another word. The brunette looked a little astonished as she took it back, wordlessly. "What?"

"Nothing. You just sounded really angry."

"I was. You never told me that she didn't outright tell you." Quinn crossed her arms across her chest, ignoring the dangerous flash of Santana's eyes that told her to drop this topic of conversation. "You don't deserve that."

"Don't tell me what I do and don't deserve. I was the one that broke it off. I was the one who told her that we should see other people. So yeah, I do deserve this. If I hadn't broken up with her then she would never be dating him now."

"Okay, yeah, you broke up with her, but you did that for her. So she wouldn't be hung up on you while you weren't able to be there for her." Santana's eyes widened a little bit in surprise at that, even though she tried not to show it. "Don't look so shocked. I know you, Santana. I know how you work."

"You have no idea how I work, Fabray." That dangerous glint was back, and she took a step closer to Quinn, so that they were practically pressed together. It was supposed to be threatening, Quinn knew that, but it didn't stop her heart rate from spiking a little at Santana's closeness.

"Yes, I do."

"No, you fucking don't. So don't try and tell me that you do." Her voice was low, laced with a fury that only Quinn seemed to be able to bring about in her, but still, the blonde didn't flinch. She was used to this – she could deal with this angry, defensive Santana much more easily than she could with crying, emotional Santana.

"Give it a break, S. We've known each other since we were freshmen, of course I do. I know that right now, you're pretending to be angry at me, to hate me, even, but really that's just because you're so fucking annoyed that Brittany forgot about you and moved on, and you can't bear to take it out on her so you're using me as a substitute instead."

She saw the brunette flinch, but that didn't stop her from speaking her mind. She knew it was true, and knew that Santana knew it was true, too. This time, when she felt the sharp sting against her cheek, she'd been expecting it, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt. It was harder, this time, than the last, and she could almost feel a bruise forming, but she didn't react.

"Do you feel better, now?" Quinn asked as Santana looked at the hand she'd used to slap the blonde as though it didn't belong to her, a tinge of horror in her eyes as her gaze lifted to lock with Quinn's. And then, without another word, she turned and practically ran away, leaving Quinn stood alone in the middle of an empty New Haven street, gazing after the rapidly retreating form of the brunette and wondering if this time, she'd pushed her too far.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**

**First of all, huge thank you for all the feedback and follows etc from the first chapter, it made my day :) **

**Second of all, how crazy (and also amazing) was the last episode of Glee? I never actually expected them to make Quinntana happen, and I have few plans to set up the wedding scenario in this, so I think it'll deviate completely from canon from now on.**

**Hope y'all enjoy this chapter as much as the first: **

* * *

Quinn went straight back to her dorm after Santana had left her, hoping that sooner or later, the brunette would turn up at her door. She headed into the kitchen, figuring it was probably best to eat something, and shoved two pieces of bread into the toaster, waiting impatiently for them to finish.

The door opened behind her just as she'd started eating, and she turned on impulse, hoping it was the Latina. Her face must have betrayed something akin to disappointment because one of her roommates, Jamie, quirked an eyebrow at her as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"I know I don't look my prettiest after a run, Quinn, but do I really look that bad?" He was one of the few people on her floor that she got along with, one of the few people in general at Yale that she got along with, if she was being honest with herself.

"Well…" Her lips quirked into a smile at his expression of mock-horror, and he slid into the chair at the kitchen table neck to her. "When are you heading back to Virginia?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. How about you?"

"Not until next week."

"Like it here that much, huh?"

"A lot better than home, yeah." It was the truth, unfortunately – as much as she didn't really fit in here, it beat trying to be the perfect daughter, and seeing how well all the old glee-clubbers were doing.

"That sucks. What are you doing tonight? We could do something, if you're free. Simon and I were thinking of heading for a couple of drinks." Simon was Jamie's best friend, but Quinn suspected that they were secretly together – she wasn't going to push him on the subject, though. They weren't really close enough for that.

"I'll think about it."

"Aw, come on, Quinn. You always bail on us. We keep inviting you out because we like spending time with you, you know."

"A friend from back home actually turned up out of the blue here last night, so I'll have to check with her first."

"Oh? Where is she?"

"Uh… Well, we had a fight. So I don't really know. She's kind of the storm-off-in-a-fit-of-rage type of girl."

"I figured that was your forte."

"Funny." She finished her last piece of toast and stood to wash the dishes off in the sink, Jamie following and leaning against the counter next to her.

"Seriously, though, come with us. It'd be cool to get to know you a little better." He left her then, with one last lopsided grin, and she thought about the proposition as she was putting her stuff back in her cupboard.

Maybe she should start going out more, she mused. The main reasons for turning down most invitations came because she wasn't really one for drinking, any more, considering her track record with it, and it wasn't much fun being the only sober girl in a room full of people who were completely wasted.

But perhaps getting out a little more would be good for her. Jamie was a good guy, she was sure he'd make a good friend, too. And god only knew she needed one of those, now more than she ever had before.

She headed back to her room, glancing at her invitingly-comfortable looking bed before turning with resolution to sit at her desk, in an attempt to finish the paper that she hadn't managed to yesterday. If she hadn't been waiting for Santana to return, she would have headed over to the library – she didn't know why, but she just always seemed to get more work done over there than she did in her own room.

Concentrating on work was apparently easier for her to do than worrying about Santana, and she'd finished the paper within half an hour, printing it off ready for her to hand in on her first day back.

But then, of course, she didn't have anything to do except wait.

She glanced at her phone and wondered whether she should call the brunette, make sure that she was alright, but figured that, no matter how stubborn Santana was, she would have let Quinn know if she was in danger.

Or she sure as hell hoped she wasn't that stubborn, anyway.

She decided that a quick text wouldn't hurt, though.

_I know you're pissed off with me right now, but I'm worried about you. Just let me know that you haven't been kidnapped or something._

Her fingers tapped impatiently on her desk as she waited for a reply, feeling herself relax a little when her phone finally buzzed with a response.

_I'm fine._

Just the fact that that was all she got from the brunette was enough for Quinn to know that no, she was not fine, but at least she was still alive, she supposed. That was something. Deciding that a shower might help her rapidly darkening mood, she stripped off her jeans and shirt, wrapping the towel tightly around her body and deciding that she was decent enough to wander the halls like that when there were so few people about.

She grabbed her bag of shampoo and headed for the bathrooms at the end of the hall, not seeing another soul on the short walk, not that she'd expected to. She dropped her towel as soon as she was safely within a cubicle, removing the rest of her clothes as she waited for the water to heat up.

It was only when it was scalding that she stepped under the spray, wishing that if only the higher the temperature, the more bad memories it would wipe away. She wondered if she could have handled Santana better, maybe she'd been stupid in thinking that pushing her would help, but she supposed it was too late to worry about that, now.

Instead she wondered how angry Santana would be when (she refused to think if), she returned, and if she even had the willpower to argue with her. It was exhausting, and she hated it, sometimes – but she couldn't help responding if someone lashed out at her. It was how she'd always been, and she didn't know how to change it.

She stayed in the shower until the water started to turn cold, wrapping her towel around her again and dashing back to her room, letting it fall as soon as she was inside and drying her hair straight away.

The sound of her blowdryer was loud enough that she didn't hear her bedroom door open, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Santana's hand waved in-front of her face, her head smacking into the wall behind her in shock, the brunette finding it all highly amusing.

"That wasn't funny," she glared, eyes watering a little from the pain, but at least Santana was laughing. She switched the blowdrier off and rubbed the back of her head tenderly, raising an eyebrow at the amount of bags that the brunette had brought back with hr. "Are there any clothes left in the shops of New Haven?"

"Only ones that I deemed inappropriate for myself." Santana was leaning against the wall beside the blonde as she spoke, and her eyes wandered a little over Quinn's body – she'd completely forgotten that she wasn't wearing any clothes. "You always spend so much time in your underwear, Q?"

Unless she was mistaken, there was a suggestive lilt to the brunette's voice, but Quinn decided to ignore it – she was fairly sure that if there was, it was little more than Santana wanting to feel something other than pain over Brittany.

"Only when I have company." She turned away from the brunette, just a little, not entirely trusting the look in her eyes. Quinn wasn't stupid – she was perfectly aware of how attractive her friend was, and with how long it had been since she'd been with, well, anyone, she wasn't entirely sure that she trusted herself around the brunette, not entirely.

Because she'd be lying if she said that she hadn't thought about it.

"Sugar daddy like it when you prance about wearing no clothes?"

"Fuck off, Santana," she hissed, wondering why Santana was so obsessed with this, enough to not let it go. Maybe it was because it was the only ammunition she could think of when it came to getting one over on Quinn; maybe it was something else entirely.

"Ooh, have I upset you? By bringing up how pathetic your love life is?"

"Like yours is any better?" Quinn whirled back around, and Santana took a step closer – they were practically chest to chest, close enough for Quinn to feel the heat emanating off the other woman, to almost be able to feel her shaking with anger at the blonde's words.

"Shut the fuck up, Quinn."

_"Make me."_ Quinn didn't know what possessed her to say it – or what possessed Santana to react the way she did, which was to take another step forward and grab hold of the top of the blonde's arms, slamming her back against the wall. "What the fuck are you - "

The blonde was cut off when Santana's mouth pressed against her own, tongue slipping past Quinn's lips and into her mouth before she could even begin to protest, her hands moving from their grip on the blonde's arms and to her waist, fingertips digging in to her skin.

Quinn couldn't feel anything apart from Santana pinned against her, took note of the thigh nestled between her own, pushed against her centre as she found herself kissing the brunette back with all she had, both of them pouring out their endless frustration with one another in that kiss, all heat and fire and desire, until Quinn finally came to her senses and snapped her head back, hands moving to Santana's shoulders to shove her away, hard.

The brunette hadn't been expected it so she shifted backwards, just a step, but it was enough – enough for Quinn to clear her head, to try and calm her rapid breathing, to force her heart from pounding in her chest.

"W-what was that?" She whispered, still a little dazed, and Santana leant back and crossed her arms across her chest, eyeing Quinn with a look that the blonde didn't like one bit.

"That was a kiss, Quinn. I know I'm amazing at it, but honestly. Did it really addle your brain that much?" Quinn ground her teeth, forcing herself to keep calm, to not scream like she wanted to, to not launch herself at the brunette that stood before her with a cocky smirk on her face – whether she wanted to launch at her to rip her hair out or to rip her clothes off, she couldn't really tell.

She didn't want to think about that too much.

"You know what I meant," she finally said, instead of the million of other thoughts that were spinning around her head – _why did you kiss me; what does it mean; why the hell did I kiss you back_ – that seemed like the safest option, for now.

"I just thought you could use a proper kiss instead of ones from someone old enough to be your father." Santana shrugged, and Quinn's teeth ground again, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Why the fuck do you bring that up in every argument, huh? Why does it even matter to you?"

"Because I can't understand why you'd let some creepy old bastard have his hands all over you. I can't understand why you think you deserve that. You act like you're all damaged and shit, but you're not. You're just afraid to love."

"And you're not?" Her question was met with silence, apart from a slight twitch of Santana's jaw. "And seeing as you're so obsessed with it – I'm not sleeping with anyone. Professor or no."

"You're lying."

"Not now."

"Why did you tell me you were, then?" There was a crease in-between the brunette's eyebrows, enough to let Quinn know that she was genuinely baffled, and the blonde sighed heavily, suddenly feeling a little too exposed, with not being fully dressed.

"Because… I… It's not what I expected, being here."

"So you made up a boyfriend? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is?"

"I'm perfectly aware, yes."

"But wait. You only told me that, didn't you? Why?"

"I don't know." That was the truth, at least – she had little idea why she'd made up that fanciful lie when they'd been squaring off against each other on opposite sides of that piano. Maybe she'd just wanted to say the most outlandish thing possible – maybe she'd wanted the brunette to call bullshit.

"You've got some pretty f-ed up issues, Q."

"And you don't?" Her only answer was another shrug, and Quinn went back to finishing drying off her hair, head still spinning a little from that kiss – but she didn't want to think about it too much with Santana standing right there, half-afraid that the brunette would know what she was thinking.

She pulled her jeans and shirt back on as soon as she was done, cutting off any more searching looks from the brunette that was now lounging on her bed, and she went to sit back at her desk, studiously ignoring the other woman, and wondering how the hell they kept ending up in this huge loop of fight-make-up-fight.

A knock on her door was the thing that stopped her stony silence, as she called out a 'come in', suspecting it was most likely to be Jamie – others rarely came to her room unless they needed something from her.

"Hey," Jamie called as he eased the door open and leant on the doorframe. Simon was stood behind him and waved, and Quinn smiled back. "You decided on your plans for later, yet?"

"Not yet," she replied, but of course, Santana chose that moment to break her own vow of silence, and her voice came out as a drawl from over Quinn's shoulder.

"What plans?" Quinn sighed, running a hand through her hair. She didn't really want to go out anymore, not with Santana tagging along, anyway.

"Um, we invited Quinn out with us tonight – she said she had a friend over so she'd have to clear it with them first…" Jamie answered the brunette when it became clear that Quinn wasn't going to, and looked curiously between the pair of them.

"Out as in out drinking?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then we're in." Jamie glanced from the brunette to the blonde, and looked like he was re-considering the offer after all.

"Santana," Quinn started, trying to keep her voice level but fairly sure she wasn't succeeding. "You do realise that it's polite to ask before making plans for someone, right?"

"And you do realise that it's polite to tell people when they're invited to places, right?" Santana copied Quinn's tone exactly, and it grated on her nerves far more than it should. Her hands clenched into fists yet again, and she couldn't help thinking that if it happened many more times then she'd probably end up with them stuck that way.

"Um, we'll just go…" Jamie muttered, leaning back away from the doorway, but Santana's voice called him back.

"No, no, come back. So you're friends of Quinn's, huh? Tell me, what's she like here at Yale? Because back in Ohio she's a straight-up bitch, do you get that vibe off her here?" Jamie looked wildly uncomfortable, and Simon appeared to have slinked off somewhere else, and Quinn finally chanced a look back to see a hint of malice on Santana's face, and she finally snapped, shoving herself out of the chair and stalking towards the door, afraid that if she stayed there for even a second longer then she'd burst into tears.

"Quinn, wait - " Jamie's hand caught her wrist, pulling her to a stop just before she crossed the threshold, concern washing over his face as his eyes met hers. He glanced back over her shoulder at Santana, frowning. "I'm going to go. I think you two should maybe talk things out a little…"

He trailed off and let go of her wrist before backing out of the door and shutting it behind him - the click sounded somehow ominous in the otherwise deadly silent room. Quinn stayed where she was, facing the door, forcing herself to calm down, willing tears not to fall.

"Why did you do that?" She asked when she was feeling a little calmer, but she still didn't turn around, didn't trust herself to. "Why do you have to tear me down at every chance you get?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"You and I both know me trying to get through to you, and you trying to hurt me is not the same thing." It came out bitterly, the words twisting a little as they fell from her lips – she wasn't used to being this brutally honest, but she was tired. Tired of this antagonistic relationship they'd found themselves in. She wanted – _needed_ – it to stop before it drove her insane.

"This is what we do, Q." Santana's voice was a little uncertain, and it was only then that she let herself turn around, expression completely unguarded as her eyes met the brunette's across the tiny room.

"And I'm sick of it. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to hear you criticise me all the time? You fucking kissed me a few minutes ago and now you want to tear me down in-front of one of the few people that I can actually begin to consider a friend here?"

"I didn't realise that being here had turned you into such a sap." The words stung, coupled with the complete dismissal of the kiss, and it was just too much – with a shake of her head, biting her lip to stop it from trembling in an effort not to cry, she just turned and left, slamming the door behind her.

Jamie and Simon were waiting in the hallway, but she just shook her head at the pair of them when they tried to stop her, brushing past them easily. It wasn't until she was outside and the cold hit her that she realised that tears were running down her cheeks. She wiped them away hastily – she didn't let anyone see her cry, not if she could help it.

She walked quickly to a nearby park, which was where she usually headed when she needed some thinking time out of her room. The journey there was a blur, and she made her way into the copse of trees – she'd come across them early on in the year, and they kept her completely hidden from view when she was sat down within them, which she loved.

She curled up on the ground and rested her head on her knees, arms wrapping around her legs, and let herself cry a little bit before even thinking about why she was so upset. Sure, it destroyed her very little self-confidence to be constantly dissed by the Latina, but it wasn't like she wasn't used to it. Did she just have thinner skin, now?

And then there was that kiss. Her lips still tingled a little from the memory of that it had felt like to have the brunette's mouth on hers; her head still spinning. She didn't have any clue what the fuck it meant, but there was one thing she was sure of – and was that she'd enjoyed it.

Which was very, very bad. If it was just a kiss, then that was fine – it probably wasn't likely to ever happen again, after all. But… she had the sneaking suspicion that it meant more than that to her. And god help her if she was actually starting to fall for the brunette – because that was sure to end disastrously, of that she was certain.

She sighed, digging her fingers into her legs and concentrating on that instead of her churning thoughts. Maybe she just needed some distance from Santana, maybe that would help – except no matter how much the brunette might wind her up, she wasn't cruel enough to send her away (even if she thought the brunette would follow her wishes), considering what, or rather, who, awaited her back in Lima.

Which left her with no alternative but to deal with Santana until she either decided to leave, or until she herself left for Lima, which wasn't for another six days. If they could survive that long without killing each other.

She'd taken her phone with her but had left it on silent, and when she checked it she had a worried text from Jamie, and two texts and three missed calls from Santana, which she found interesting. Maybe she could actually bring herself to care about the blonde, after all.

She didn't reply to any of them, only picked herself up off the floor and venturing back to her room, wiping her cheeks and trying to make herself look a little more presentable on the way over. It was nearing three in the afternoon, she realised with a start, and she'd only eaten two slices of toast so far that day. And she hadn't brought ay money out with her.

Typical.

Jamie and Simon were no longer in the hallway when she returned, and she paused outside for a brief second outside her room to collect her thoughts before she pushed the door open – but it was empty. Frowning, she noted that Santana's bags from her shopping trip still littered her floor, so she hadn't left unexpectedly.

She had absolutely no idea where to find the brunette, but she found herself thinking that she didn't really care at this point. So instead she cleaned herself up in-front of her mirror, grabbed her bag and went to get some food, opting against being a bitch and locking the door behind her, which would mean that Santana wouldn't have been able to get back in – she wasn't quite that petty.

The café she chose to go to for lunch was a five minute walk, one she frequented whenever her classes meant that she had a break in the middle of the day, or when she couldn't be bothered to make anything herself.

She ordered a salad and a coffee, even though she didn't really like the taste - it made her feel a little bit more grown up, which she needed to fell today, of all days. She needed to remember that she'd changed, that she wasn't the same girl who'd gotten herself pregnant too young, who'd made so many stupid choices even after that.

She ate quickly, ignoring another text from Santana (_Seriously, Q, where the fuck are you. I don't care how pissed you are, text me the fuck back right now, okay? I'm worried. Please._). Maybe she shouldn't have, maybe she should have replied, but she was feeling vindictive enough to let the brunette be concerned, for once, over her actions. Because she was damn well willing to bet that if the reason for Quinn's disappearing act hadn't been Santana's fault, that she wouldn't care half as much.

When she arrived back on her floor, the door to Jamie's room was propped open, and he and Simon were sitting cross-legged in the hallway, Santana sat leaning against the door opposite. All three heads turned towards her at the sound of her approach, and a look of relief washed over all of their faces.

"Thank fuck, Quinn. Where the hell where you?" She chose not to answer, waiting for an apology, and instead stepped over Santana's legs and into her bedroom, collapsing on the bed and curling up on her side, facing the doorway.

It opened a few seconds later, and the brunette shuffled in, wringing her hands a little as she stood and just watched the blonde, face betraying nothing. "Are you just going to stand there and stare at me all day?" Quinn eventually asked, growing uncomfortable from the eyes on her.

"No. I… I'm sorry. I've been shitty to you, this whole time, pretty much, even though you let me stay here when you didn't have to. And I… I get what you mean, about being sick of being on at each other all the time. And I want to try to fix that. If you'll let me."

Quinn let the brunette's words sink in before she replied, picking her words carefully, because she wasn't entirely sure how long this would last, and she wanted to start it right. "Okay. I guess I'm sorry, too, for provoking you half the time; that was wrong of me. And thank you. For… wanting to try."

"I can't promise that I won't insult you endearingly from time to time, though." Santana cracked a smile, and Quinn laughed, just a little, and just like that the awkwardness between them disappeared. "You want to watch a movie or something?"

"Sure. Are we going out later?"

"If you want to. Your friends are pretty cool." Quinn pushed herself upright only to grab her laptop and then getting back on the bed, sitting so that her back was against the wall and the computer on the bed next to her.

"Pick a film," she murmured to the brunette as she sent a quick text to Jamie asking him where they should meet later on. As she waited for him to reply she got comfortable on the bed, shifting a few pillows around and leaving enough space for Santana to curl up beside her.

"Close your eyes." Santana instructed, holding a DVD behind her back, out of the blonde's view. Quinn raised an eyebrow, unasked question in her gaze. "You have to guess what film it is."

"Aren't we a little old for guessing games?"

"Shut up and close your eyes, Fabray." With an exasperated sigh, Quinn did as she was told, squeezing her eyes shut as she listened to Santana putting the disk into her laptop before settling down on the bed next to her.

"Okay, you can open up now. If you don't guess the film within the first minute, then you have to do five shots later."

"What? That's not fair, a minute's not enough time to figure out what it is."

"Are you backing out, Fabray?" There is was again, that challenge in her dark gaze, charged with a little something more than usual. She wondered if Santana had thought about that kiss again, since it happened, but quickly pushed that thought out of her mind as she felt her gaze wander to the brunette's lips – hopefully she didn't notice.

"Fine. But if I guess it right, then you have to do the shots."

"Deal."

x-x-x

As it turned out, Quinn hadn't been able to guess that Santana had chosen Pitch Perfect as their film of choice – she hadn't even had the chance to watch it once for herself, so there was no surprise there.

The brunette was a little too happy about that, and Quinn wondered why she seemed so intent on getting her drunk – though maybe a little alcohol in her system would stop her feeling so questioning over Santana's every act.

Or maybe it was just a terrible idea.

She didn't have much time to muse over how it would turn out, however, because by the time the movie had finished, it was time to eat and then getting ready. They met the two boys in the hall at ten, walking together to the first bar of the night, only a block away.

"Now," Santana started almost as soon as they were inside, eyeing Quinn with mischief in her eyes. "Shots now, or later?"

"One now and the rest later?"

"Nu-uh, all at once. I want to see you hammered, Fabray. It's about time you loosened up, from these losers have told me." She indicated Simon and Jamie with an absent wave of her hand, and they looked mildly offended at the insult.

"Don't worry guys, she offends everyone."

"It's part of my charm."

"Yeah, sure," Quinn muttered, loud enough for only Jamie to hear, who stifled a laugh. They slid into a booth, Quinn and Simon ending up opposite each other as Santana and Jamie disappeared to get drinks.

"Are you heading back home tomorrow, too?" She wasn't really one for small-talk, but she supposed she should make at least some effort. Simon was a lot shier than his suspected-boyfriend, which meant he wasn't the easiest to talk to. Hopefully that'd change once he had a few drinks in him.

"Yeah, I'm going back to his place for a few days before heading back home."

"You're from Montana, right?"

"Yeah. And you're Ohio?"

"Unfortunately." He grinned at that, and Santana appeared over his shoulder brandishing two bottles of cheap-looking beer. She slid in beside Quinn and plonked one down on the table in-front of her. "What the hell is this?"

"Just drink it, Q."

"Uh, no. I've seen beer brewed by students that looked safer than this."

"Loosen up a little, will ya?" Muttered Santana with a roll of her eyes, and Quinn took a deep breath, ready to go into a full on rant – before she caught the uncomfortable look on poor Simon's face, and decided against it.

Instead, she let it go, and took an apprehensive sip from the bottle. It wasn't the best thing she'd ever tasted, but she was sure that it could be worse. "See? Not that bad." She studiously ignored the smug smile that accompanied Santana's words, instead choosing to just drink a little more – maybe getting drunk wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

It wasn't until her fourth beer that Quinn started to feel a little buzzed, and it was only then that she realised that unless she wriggled her way out of her deal with Santana, that she was going to get a lot worse before the night ended.

After the fourth round they decided to head to another bar down the street, which was a lot louder than the one they'd just left, packed with Yale students who were enjoying their last Saturday night out before heading home for the holidays.

They found a table towards the back, Quinn heading for the drinks this time so that she could ordered something non-alcoholic in an attempt to sober herself up a little. She was stood waiting for the bartender to hand the drinks over when she heard someone call her name, a hand landing on the small of her back making her jump a little.

"Quinn! I thought it was you. I haven't seen you around in ages, how have you been?" The blonde turned, with a feeling of slight dread in the pit of her stomach, to meet the startlingly blue eyes of the girl who, for her first month or so at Yale, had been her best friend there: Amy.

She was the same height as the blonde, a shade paler and had long black hair that somehow made her look absolutely gorgeous instead of washed-out, like it would with most other people with that skintone. Her smile was genuine, but it still didn't put Quinn at ease – not that the poor girl had done anything wrong.

No, it had been the blonde that had messed things up between them.

"Hey, Amy. I've been great, thanks, yourself?" The arrival of her drinks order gave her a few seconds to gather her thoughts as she handed her money over, feeling Amy's gaze on her the whole time.

"Not too bad." Quinn shuffled a little awkwardly, taking a long sip from her fruit cocktail, grabbing Santana's next beer in her other hand. "You here with friends?"

"Uh yeah. You remember Jamie and Simon?"

"Yeah. I miss you, you know." Quinn bit her lip, not exactly wanting to have this conversation, ever, never mind after she'd been drinking and whilst they were in a crowded bar. Luckily, Santana of all people came to her aid, practically shoving Amy aside in order to lean against the bar next to Quinn.

"I thought you got lost," was all the brunette said by way of explanation, as she plucked her drink from Quinn's hand, taking a swig as she sized Amy up over the lip of the bottle. "Who's your friend, Q?"

"Amy Daniels," the other girl said, extending her hand to Santana, but the brunette didn't take it, and didn't offer her own name. "Well, uh, I should probably go," Amy muttered after a few seconds of awkward silence, letting her arm drop back down to her side. "I'll see you around, Quinn. And you can call me, you know, whenever."

Quinn only nodded and murmured a soft 'goodbye', before she turned and strode back towards their table, not even checking to see of Santana was still in tow. She was a little shaken from the encounter, even if she'd never admit it to anyone – just like she'd never admit what had happened between her and Amy that had made their brief friendship fall apart.

It had been about five weeks since the start of the college year, and they'd gone out one night and gotten completely wasted – and Quinn had woken up the next morning in Amy's bed, both of them sans clothes, with only brief flashes of memory as to what had transpired the night before.

She'd managed to piece it together, well enough, though, from the vivid memory of Amy's lips, hot on hers, as they'd collapsed backwards onto her bed – and that was all she'd needed to know, really.

And, because she came from the family that she did, she'd naturally freaked out about it and left without saying a word to her friend, ignoring all of her calls and texts until eventually, she'd stopped trying.

Quinn had managed to keep quiet about the whole thing, and trusted that Amy would do the same. She didn't know what it meant, had blamed it all on being so drunk, but now she wasn't so sure.

Mainly she just tried not to think about it, and the reason she'd been so successful at it was because she hadn't had a drink since.

"Yo, Q, are you okay?" She snapped out of her mind at Santana's hand waving in her face, and turned to see brown eyes looking at her with concern.

"I-I'm fine. Sorry, zoned out a little there." Santana was still frowning, but she just shrugged, apparently letting it go – for now.

"So, what was the deal with that chick?"

"Nothing."

"Who was it?" Jamie piped up, across the table, and Quinn's eyes fluttered closed – she really, really didn't need Jamie wondering why the girl who had been so inseparable from the blonde for those first few weeks had suddenly ceased to exist for her, not again; it'd been difficult enough to come up with a flimsy excuse the first time around, one that she could scarcely even remember, now.

"Someone called Amy?"

"Ohhhh. Amy, Amy?" He was looking at the blonde as he spoke, she could tell, and Quinn cracked an eye open to see that he was looking at her with one eyebrow quirked up. "I never believed that story you spun me about her sleeping with her professor being the reason why you guys stopped being friends. That was total bull."

Beside her, she heard Santana choke in a breath, and Quinn kicked her, hard, under the table, turning to the brunette with a glare that screamed_ don't you dare_. Their eyes met, and Santana looked away first, with a tiny nod of acquiescence.

"It wasn't bull, it was true."

"Yeah, yeah." She could tell Jamie still didn't believe her, but he apparently decided not to push the issue. Quinn felt her phone ring with a text, then, and she frowned at the device, unsure who on earth would want to contact her at midnight on a Saturday. She got her answer as soon as the screen lit up.

_You are totes telling me what went down between you and vampire-Amy later._ Quinn hadn't even noticed Santana texting, which showed how much attention she was paying to her. The blonde rolled her eyes and texted back a quick response.

_Vampire? And not a chance, S. Sorry._

_Yeah, vampire. I mean, did you see how pale she was? That shit just ain't natural. And yeah, you totally are. I'll spike your drink with enough alcohol to get you talking, don't worry. And you still have those shots to do, unless you're backing out of a bet, Q?_

_Never._


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: **_

_**Thank you all for your amazing responses to this story so far - I appreciate it so, so much! Hope you enjoy this instalment, too. As always, any thoughts/comments are greatly appreciated. :)**_

_Okay, so drinking was definitely a bad idea_. Quinn only realised that when she was splashing cold water on her face two hours later, in the cramped bathroom of a noisy club, in a feeble attempt to stop her head from spinning, and from feeling like she was about to vomit.

Jamie and Simon had disappeared long ago, wandering off to dance but never coming back, and Santana had eventually grown bored of trying to get information from the blonde about Amy, so had disappeared into the crowd, too.

So that had left her standing on her own and feeling strangely lonely, even though she was surrounded by hundreds of people. So she'd locked herself in a bathroom stall and tried to make herself feel a little less sickly, to no avail.

With a soft sigh, she decided that she'd been hiding long enough and wandered cautiously back into the main room of the club, with the aim of finding at least one of her friends and telling them she was going home.

The blonde paused on the edge of the dancefloor, searching desperately through the writhing bodies for a flash of something familiar, but to no avail. With a sigh, she leant back against the wall, pulling her phone out and deciding that it would be much quicker to text, instead.

She was still pretty wasted, so it took her a little longer than usual to type out the words that she wanted to send – and by the time she'd managed that, Jamie and Simon appeared at her elbow, holding hands.

"Hey," Jamie, the taller of the two, shouted over the sound of the music, leaning close to her in order to be heard. "We wondered where you'd gotten to."

"Right here," the blonde replied, letting the phone drop back into her bag, text forgotten about. "But I'm thinking of heading back now – if you see Santana, let her know?"

"Uhhh…." Jamie trailed off, looking a little uncomfortable. "I don't think she'll be wanting to speak to anyone anytime soon."

"What?" He nodded to one side of the room, and that was when Quinn saw her. She didn't know how she'd managed to miss Santana, really – a circle had formed around the brunette and the blonde that she was dancing with, and more than one person had simply stopped and were staring at the pair.

Maybe dancing was an understatement, though – they were practically grinding, one of Santana's thighs between the blonde's legs, her hands hovering over her ass, as the other woman's hands were tangled in the brunette's hair.

And they were kissing, too, practically with their tongues down each other's throats, and she didn't know why, but that made Quinn feel even more ill than she had before. Never mind the fact that, just a few hours ago, those lips pressed against hers, searching – though neither of them knew what for.

Quinn tore her gaze away from the pair, eyes landing back on Jamie, who was looking at her with concern on his face – and, unless she was mistaken, sympathy. Anger blazed through her then, quickly overtaking anything else she was feeling – she didn't need anyone's pity.

She didn't need anyone's _anything_.

"If I don't see you guys tomorrow, then have a good holiday." She forced a smile, though she knew she wasn't convincing either of them, before she turned on her heel and left, slipping her phone back out of her bag and into her hand for the walk back to her room – just in-case.

It wasn't until she was outside in the cool night air that she realised she was crying. Angrily, she swiped away the tears with the back of her hand, clenching her jaw and refusing to let any others spill until she was back in the safety of her own room.

She didn't see another soul on her walk back, which she was glad of, even if it was a little eerie. And it was even more so once she was back in her building, with everyone either absent or already asleep.

A vindictive part of her wanted to lock the door behind her, to not let Santana back inside whenever she came crawling home that night. Not that she really expected the brunette to make an appearance – she'd looked perfectly happy with whoever she'd been dancing with, probably enough to go home with her.

The thought rested uneasily with her, and she blamed it on the alcohol, but a nagging part of her brain didn't believe that. Stumbling a little as she took the few steps towards her bed, Quinn shrugged out of her dress and crawled under the covers without putting any pyjamas on over the top – if the brunette did come home tonight, it wasn't as if she hadn't already seen the blonde in her underwear, as recently as today even.

She would have thought that having the bed to herself after her cramped sleep last night would have been glorious, but it wasn't – she just felt empty, and couldn't bring herself to lie on the side that Santana had claimed the night before, the scent of the brunette's shampoo lingering on the sheets and pillow.

When she next checked her phone it was half an hour later and she still wasn't asleep – whenever she closed her eyes the image of Santana and that blonde kissing had seemingly imprinted on the back of her eyelids.

It was frustrating, and it made her blood boil, and she didn't know why. She didn't want it to be jealously. She didn't want to be jealous of that other woman, that Santana was choosing to make out with her instead of Quinn.

Because that thought was madness. She didn't want to be kissing the brunette, no matter how good it had felt before – maybe it was just the residual memory of that. She hadn't been with anyone for a long time, after all. It made sense.

With a frustrated groan, the blonde ran a hand through her hair, giving in and rolling so that she was away from the wall, surrounded by the smell of Santana and not even caring. Her face pressed against the pillow, and her hands fisted into the sheets, wrapping them tightly around her torso, imaging that they were arms, holding her.

And eventually, she managed to drift into a fitful sleep.

x-x-x

She woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, with her head buried under the sheets. With a groan she shoved them off her head, cracking one eye open and immediately looking into a pair of dark brown eyes.

Santana was sat on the floor beside the bed, crossed-legged, hands resting lightly on her knees as she watched the now-awake blonde, face betraying no emotion. Wordlessly, she climbed to her feet, and reached over to the blonde's desk, grabbing a glass full of water in one hand and an aspirin in the other.

"With the amount you drank last night I figured you probably needed these," Santana murmured, voice husky (as though she hadn't gotten much sleep, a voice in Quinn's mind whispered), as she handed them over to Quinn, who sat gingerly up in bed and leant her back against the wall, taking the aspirin with a gulp of the cold water, hoping it would soothe her head sooner rather than later.

It was only when Santana's gaze flickered over the blonde's chest that Quinn remembered that she was wearing only her bra, but she didn't reach down to cover herself – let Santana look, if she wanted to.

"You disappeared on me last night." Santana's voice was soft, but it made Quinn's blood boil. What right did she have to waltz into the blonde's life and wreck everything for her? Irriational to blame Santana for her feelings it may be, but right then, she didn't care – she was tired and hungover and confused, and god, she needed more sleep.

"I didn't think you'd notice that I was gone." Her voice was acidic, and the brunette actually flinched – barely, but Quinn was watching closely enough to notice.

"Okay, what the fuck is wrong with you?" The brunette crossed her arms across her chest, resting her lower back against the blonde's desk.

"Nothing," Quinn muttered, looking away from piercing eyes and feigning interest in her glass of now half-empty water. Which was fitting, she mused, for her mood – she was definitely not feeling more like the glass half-full kind of girl right about now.

"Clearly something is, otherwise you wouldn't be acting like a bitch."

"Well, I am a bitch, Santana, as you so often like to remind me – why am I not allowed to act it?" Her eyes were dangerous, her half-smile glittering as she finally met the brunette's eyes, seeing the challenge there – it was never far, when the two of them were together, after all.

"Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? Did you revert back into crazy high school Quinn during the night? You didn't tell me you were leaving last night, so if you're pissed that you had to walk home alone you can quit it, because how the fuck was I supposed to know?"

"You seemed to be getting along awfully well with your new friend – I didn't want to interrupt." The words were bitter, voice still laced with a deadly cool that threatened to shatter at any moment, _she_ threatened to shatter at any moment; she'd never as helpless and as alone and as vulnerable as she had last night, seeing Santana with someone else.

And there it was, finally, laid out in the air behind them – the reason for her attitude, the reason why she could barely look the brunette in the eye without seeing someone else's hands all over her body.

Hands that weren't Quinn's.

"You… you're pissed at me because I was dancing with Kaylee?" Santana looked slightly incredulous, some of her earlier anger dissipating as she just stared at the blonde disbelievingly.

"No." But as she said it, unable to stop from sounding almost defensive, the thought that flashed through her has simply: _what the fuck kind of name was Kaylee_?

"Really, Q. Cause you could have fooled me."

"I hope you had a wonderful time together last night," Quinn spat, unable to stand the condescension in Santana's voice, and she tore the bed covers from around her legs and shoved herself off the bed, pulling on some shorts and a t-shirt.

"Are… are you jealous?" She sounded confused, now, and Quinn couldn't deal with it – couldn't deal with any of this. She didn't want to be jealous; she didn't want to start feeling this way, especially for someone like Santana – someone who was so painfully in love with someone else that is was written across her face, clear as day, for all to see.

And Brittany didn't even want her back, not anymore. But what could Quinn offer, when Brittany was the only girl that Santana had ever wanted? How could she compete with years of history?

She couldn't, plain and simple, and so, she did the only thing that she knew worked to worm her way out of situations that she really didn't want to deal with. She put on her HBIC personality and whirled around to face the brunette with a scoff, hands landing firmly on her hips.

"Jealous? Of what? Get over yourself, Santana – not everyone wants to fuck you, no matter how much you might think otherwise." One of the brunette's eyebrows raised in response to the blonde's change in demeanour.

"I never said they did." Her voice was calm, but Quinn could tell that she was a second away from snapping, and she thought if she could just push her over that point, then they could scream at each other and then maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to forget every thought running through her mind – like how beautiful the brunette looked, framed in the weak sunlight spilling through her tiny window. "But now that you've re-certified your straightness, are you going to tell me what the fuck I did wrong?"

"I…" Quinn trailed off, a decent lie not coming to the forefront of her mind, and _dammit,_ why did it always have to be her?

"Right, you don't have one. So, either you're just being a bitch to me for no reason, or you actually are jealous, and seeing as we agreed yesterday to try and be nicer to each other, I'm guessing it's the latter."

She hated the look in Santana's eyes, the smug look on her face, proud that she'd figured it out, like Quinn was some sort of puzzle for her to play with whenever she felt like it. She wanted to cry, but no, she wouldn't, couldn't, not now. Not like this.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Seriously, Quinn," Santana started, and the blonde compelled herself not to react at the use of her full name – so rarely falling from those perfect lips. "Can you stop being such a defensive bitch for once in your entire life and just admit that I'm right, for once?"

"No. Because you're not." Quinn Fabray was many things, and stubborn was most definitely one of them.

"Just admit it."

"No." Their eyes met, Quinn's blazing with determination; Santana's with frustration. Silence hung in the air between them, before the brunette ran a hand through her hair in exasperation.

"You kissed me back yesterday." It wasn't a question – it was a statement, uttered so calmly. It was the first time Santana had mentioned it, herself, and Quinn had no idea what to say, because it was true. She had, and she had absolutely no idea what that meant.

"And your point is?"

"My point, Q," Santana took a deliberate step forward, until there were mere inches between the two of them, and her voice was soft – dangerously so. "Is that you kissed me back, and I bet it's because you wanted me – and you were jealous yesterday, because I was kissing someone that wasn't you."

It was the truth, every word of it, and Quinn hated that this woman knew her so well. Knew her well enough that she could destroy her, utterly and completely, if she wanted to. It wasn't a comforting thought, not in the slightest, and she took a step away from the brunette, not able to think clearly with when surrounded by the scent of her perfume.

"What, afraid that if you stand too close you'll jump me?" Santana's smile glittered, and Quinn's eyes burned, because this was little more than a game to the brunette. Santana didn't care for her, not really – not like that. Not when she was so, so in love with someone else.

"Fuck off," she muttered, not her most eloquent response but certainly getting her thoughts across. Santana's smile turned into a smirk, and Quinn hated it. Hated that she could get under her skin this way, could affect her so effortlessly. But she did have one weapon, at least. "And in-case you're forgotten, you kissed me first."

"And?"

"And? Seriously? Have you ever thought for a second why that might be? Or are you really just careless enough to sleep with whoever's most convenient at the time?"

"You think you have me all figured out, Q, don't you? Well, newsflash – you don't. So why don't you get off your high fucking horse and stop acting like you're so much better than me just because you're a prude and have slept with less people than I have. At least I was never stupid enough to get knocked-up by any of my one night stands."

The mention of her past, of Beth, had much the same effect as the last time that Santana had brought it up in an argument – namely, the palm of the blonde's hand smacking against her cheek, the force of the blow sending her stumbling sideways.

When their eyes met again, there was fire in both of their eyes, and unquenchable anger, and when Santana made a grab for the front of her shirt she leapt backwards and out of her grasp, ignoring the frustrated growl that left the brunette's lips.

"What's the matter, Q? Are you afraid of me?" Her smile was deadly, her eyes as cold as ice, as they circled each other, and Quinn wondered what number physical fight this was – the fourth, maybe? Or was it the fifth?

She'd lost count.

She didn't notice Santana's lunge until the last second – too late, and the momentum sent the blonde toppling backwards onto the bed, and then the brunette was on-top of her, straddling her waist, a hand buried in the front of Quinn's shirt, gripping tightly.

"Get the hell off me," the blonde hissed, hands moving to Santana's slight hips in an effort to push her off her lap, but the hold she had on the blonde's shirt was too vice-like, and she didn't budge an inch.

"Oh, come on, Q, you can do better than that. Unless, of course, you don't want me off of you." Sarcasm dripped from her every word, but there was malice there too, and Quinn had no idea why she did it, but one second she was glaring into eyes blazing with fury and the next, she'd closed the few millimetres distance between them and they were kissing.

She wondered, in some part of her mind, as Santana's lips devoured hers in a kiss so hungry that it left her completely breathless, when verbal sparring had become an aphrodisiac for the both of them. It was almost like their own twisted version of foreplay – and it fit their personalities so well.

Teeth sank savagely into her bottom lip, and she grunted slightly in pain, tasting the metallic tang of blood, but then a dextrous tongue was swiping along the wound and sliding across her own, exploring her mouth in a way that had a soft moan falling from her lips.

Her hands, idle at the brunette's hips, slid down to toned thighs, scratching across skin hard enough to leave angry red marks over tanned flesh – claiming the brunette as hers, even though she had no right.

Hungry lips left her mouth and moved down the column of her neck, and her breath was coming out in shallow pants as the brunette sucked at her pulse point, teeth grazing just enough to leave her own mark on the blonde's body, and when one of Santana's hands yanked down Quinn's t-shirt in order to palm her breasts roughly, she let out a ragged gasp even though her brain was screaming at her – _this is too fast; slow down._

But she couldn't, not with Santana's hands roaming her body, mouth leaving hot kisses against her skin, feeling her skin under her hands.

It was only the knock on the door that pulled them apart, and Santana had just leapt off the blonde, Quinn only just straightened her shirt, before the door cracked open and Jamie's head appeared.

"I just wanted to say bye before I left," he started, shooting the pair of them a puzzled look – Quinn was fairly sure she was flushed, and her chest was still heaving slightly, trying to catch her breath, and Santana was determinedly staring wordlessly out of the window. "And could I have a quick word with you, Quinn? Alone?" He shot Santana's back a pointed glance and Quinn, curious, shoved herself upright and followed him out of her room and into the hallway.

His suitcase stood outside of his room, and he was there that he led her to, shutting the door behind them and leaning back against it. "I know I, uh, don't have any right to interfere in anything in your life, but I can't really stand idly by, either."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured, even though she knew he was probably referring to a particular brunette that was currently stood in her bedroom.

"I think you do, Quinn. Look, I know we don't really know each other that well, but I think we can become pretty good friends. And Santana… just be careful, okay? She's… you seem to have a very… destructive relationship."

"Oh, we're not in a relationship, I assure you." Her words were bitter, and she knew it, but she was beyond caring at this point.

"Even so. You have something. I've seen you together for less than twenty-four hours and I can see that."

"She's in love with someone else. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Sometimes love makes people do stupid things. Just be careful, okay? I'd hate to see you get hurt." Quinn thought back over the past couple of days, since Santana had arrived at her bedroom door, of all the times she'd wanted to cry in that time – maybe it was a little late for not wanting to get hurt. Maybe she should just accept that with Santana, that was going to be a given.

"Thanks," was all she could really think of to say, but it seemed to be acceptable because he gave her a quick hug, and she wondered how she'd manage to stumble across such a great guy, who could probably be a good friend to her here, in the long run.

"I'll see you soon, then. And you can text me anytime, if you want to."

"I will if I need to, I promise. Have a good vacation." She left him after another brief hug, heading back to her room and the brunette beauty that awaited her. Santana was still beside the window, looking out onto the grounds outside, and Quinn wordlessly shut the door behind her, leaning against it once it was shut.

"Are we ever going to talk about what just happened?" She asked after a few minutes of silence, when she couldn't stand it anymore. She was sick of dancing around it – they'd kissed twice now, in as many days, surely that had to mean something.

Anything.

"What is there to talk about, Q?" Her was soft now, all other emotion faded away, stripped bare, but the brunette still didn't turn to face her. "I always manage to fuck everything up."

Quinn didn't really know what to say to that, and just waited for Santana to elaborate, sliding down the door until she was sat on the floor and bringing her knees up against her chest. Eventually there was a heavy sigh and the brunette finally turned around, the remnants of tears on her cheeks that Quinn longed to wipe away.

"I came here because I had nowhere else to go, and that's because I push everyone away. Hell, I do it to you more than anyone else but for some reason it's never worked on you. And Brittany… God, I fucked that up, too."

"It's not your fault, though. You know that, right?" So, maybe she didn't want to get into a detailed discussion about the blonde back in Lima, but if that was what Santana needed, well, then, she was just going to have to suck it up. "You did what you thought was best."

"And apparently what she thought was best was getting with him," her voice twisted with such bitterness that it made Quinn's heart ache, but she forced herself not to react. "Without even telling me. Like I'm not even worth the effort."

"S… You know what Brittany's like. She probably didn't even think to tell you."

"But if she loved me half as much as she claimed to, surely she would have mentioned it?" There was a sad, soft smile on Santana's face now, and Quinn wondered whether this was her finally trying to let the other blonde go. "I'm sorry, for the way I've been acting towards you. You don't deserve it. Well, maybe a little bit…"

"Very funny," Quinn murmured, welcoming the change from antagonistic to teasing, even if it was unexpected.

"I just… I miss her. Don't you?"

"I miss everyone from back home," she answered, honestly. "But I guess at some point we have to move on, right?"

"I guess so." Santana's gaze turned musing, and she turned slightly to glance back outside again, and Quinn wondered what she was looking at, what she was thinking. Santana was always such a mystery to her – and to everyone else, probably – that she was often a closed book to the blonde, whereas the brunette had an annoying tendency to know exactly what Quinn was thinking at any given time. "I'm sorry I kissed you."

It was spoken so softly that Quinn almost thought that she'd imagined it, had it not been for the tense set of Santana's shoulders as she awaited the blonde's response. Eyes trained on her hands, the blonde shrugged, even though Santana was no longer facing her.

"You don't need to apologise," she practically whispered. "I know you miss Brittany."

"Wait." Santana turned back around suddenly, pinning Quinn with an unreadable stare, slight crease between her eyebrows. "Does that mean you think I did it because it was Brittany I wanted to be kissing and you were a suitable substitute?"

There was a slightly disbelieving note in the brunette's voice, but Quinn refused to look up, afraid of what Santana would see written on her face. "Didn't you?"

"Q, you're an idiot," Santana breathed, and when she chanced a quick glance upwards, she saw the brunette was just a few steps away from her now, still stood and looming over her. "I kissed you because I wanted to, not because I wanted to pretend that you were someone else. I might be a bitch but I'm not that cold-hearted – did you really think I'd do that?"

"I… No?"

"You're definitely an idiot. Look, in the spirit of trying to be a better friend to you, it can be honesty hour. You're hot, okay? Anyone can see that. But I shouldn't be trying to avoid talking about shit by making out with you. And I shouldn't… I shouldn't want you when I'm still thinking about someone else."

Of course this would still be about Brittany, Quinn thought, but at least the brunette was being honest. Besides, she wasn't stupid – she knew that, for Santana, it would never be about anything more than sex, if they ever did start something.

A part of her didn't think that that sounded like a terrible idea.

"How about we just forget it ever happened?" She met Santana's eyes then, as she said the words, even though she didn't want to. She didn't want to forget the feeling of the brunette's lips on hers – knew she probably wouldn't either, not for a while.

"If you want. And truce? About the fighting?"

"Sure."

"Wanna watch another movie?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

**This is the chapter I've been the least sure about so far, mainly because of the ending because that wasn't originally where I was planning to take the story yet. But I hope you enjoy this as much as the others, and thank you so much for continuing to stick with me! :)**

The next few days passed in quick succession, and consisted of little more than lounging around the dorms all day and only venturing outside if it was strictly necessary. Surprisingly, since their last argument on the Sunday, there hadn't been another, and now it was Thursday night and they were starting their journey back to Lima tomorrow (instead of flying, as she'd originally planned, Santana was driving and they were making a mini road-trip out of the whole thing), and Santana was practically pleading with the blonde that they should celebrate their last night of freedom by going out.

"Come _on_, Q, don't be a spoilsport."

"Sorry, Santana, but my idea of a fun night is not watching you grind on – I mean, _dance with_ – some random girl in a club while I'm left on my own." Quinn was sprawled out across her bed, and Santana was perched in her desk chair, spinning it round in lazy circles beside the bed.

"Quinnnnn," the brunette whined with a pout, and the blonde rolled her eyes at the over-dramatic display. "You're no fun. And besides, you wouldn't be on your own if you found your own girl to grind on."

"Wow, S, you're really selling the idea to me."

"Oh, come on, Q – when was the last time you had sex? Maybe you'd loosen up a bit if you weren't so horny." Quinn turned to glare at the brunette, who was smirking at her now.

"For your information," she started, pushing herself up so that she was leaning back on her elbows and able to see the brunette's reaction, but she was cut off.

"What, you don't get horny?"

"You're impossible," Quinn muttered, and Santana's smirk turned into a grin, which made the blonde roll her eyes again. She'd gotten used to this, in the last few days – this easy friendship, unburdened by anything else. And it was easier to forget about how that kiss had left her feeling when there wasn't so much unresolved tension between them.

"Oh, so you _do _get horny? Come on Q, seriously, when was the last time you had sex? Please tell me it wasn't with Puck, and that was only time because that's just _sad_."

"Not that it's any of your business, but no, Puck was not the last person I had sex with." _Thankfully_, she added as an afterthought – that night was one that she would gladly erase from her memory. Then again, she half-wished that she could erase the last time she'd had sex, too – for that had been with Amy, and that had opened up a whole new door of confusion that she really didn't need in her life.

"So who was it with?"

"None of your business."

"Please tell me it wasn't Finn."

"Ew. God, no." Even the thought of it made her shudder, and then they were both laughing. "I don't know why I even dated him in the first place. Well, no, I do know why, but still."

"Did you ever have actual feelings for anyone you dated in high school?" The brunette sounded honestly curious, and Quinn pondered over the question for a while before answering.

"I… Honestly? No, I don't think I did. I dated Finn because he was a way to keep on top of the school; I slept with Puck because he wanted me when I was feeling vulnerable; and Sam… I dated him because I was lonely and he wanted me."

"That's kinda fucked up, Q."

"Tell me about it." It was the truth, though – she didn't truly know what it was to be in love. To feel that whirlwind of emotions, to truly long for someone, the way that Brittany and Santana had used to.

It had never bothered her before – she didn't need any of that, not really. But ever since _that _night with Amy and now with those few moments with Santana… now there was a nagging part of her mind that whispered that the reason she'd never felt it before was because she'd never been truly _attracted _to anyone of her past boyfriends before.

And now she was starting to wonder whether that was because they just hadn't been right together, or if it was for another reason. Like, maybe she was attracted to a different gender altogether.

But that was a scary thought that she didn't want to deal with, not now, maybe not ever - and so she pushed it down, focusing back on the brunette who was looking at her curiously, probably wondering where Quinn had gone to in her head.

"Seriously though, can we please go out tonight? I promise that I won't be a dick and leave you on your own. And also that if I feel the sudden desire to dance very closely with someone and possibly grind on them, as you so eloquently put, that my first choice will be you. And I'll buy your drinks."

"All of them?"

"Sure?"

"Well, when you put it like _that_, S…."

"Yay!"

x-x-x

Quinn was drunk.

Like, really drunk. Basically past remembering her name drunk, but she found that she didn't care as she tilted back her third – or was it fourth? – vodka shot, and Santana's eyebrows raised a little, looking a little concerned.

"Are you okay, Q?"

"I am _fineeeee_, S, don't you worry. I thought you wanted us to have fun?" She had no idea at what point she'd decided that being completely trashed was a good idea, but she could worry about that later.

"I did, but I don't think it's going to be much fun if you're throwing up all night. Can I have a bottle of water, please?" She directed the last sentence to the bartender – the only seats that had been available had been ones right at the bar – and when he returned with the bottle the brunette shoved it into Quinn's hands. "Drink that."

"All of it?"

"Yes, Quinn, all of it."

"You're no fun." But she did as she was told anyway, and she did feel a little better for it – or maybe that was just her mind playing tricks. They were in the same bar they'd come to last time, and had been there for a couple of ours, from what the blonde could tell. "Can I ask you something?"

Santana looked a little surprised at the direct question, sipping from a bottle of fancy sounding beer that Quinn probably wouldn't have been able to pronounce while sober, never mind now. "Sure."

"How did you know you were gay?" The brunette arched an eyebrow at that, but that was the only indication she gave about whether she thought it was an odd question or not. Quinn remembered why she'd thought it'd be a good idea to get wasted now – because of this. She didn't know how to ask while sober, and hopefully Santana would just write this off as simple drunken curiosity.

"Any particular reason you wanna know that, Q?" There was a knowing glint in the brunette's eyes that Quinn ignored as she shook her head resolutely. "Sure. Well, I guess there wasn't really any particular moment that I knew," she shrugged. "I just knew something was up when I started having feelings for Britt like I should have been for guys."

"That was it?"

"What do you mean, 'that was it'? Are you okay, Q?"

"Fine, fine," she muttered, looking away from the brunette and focusing her gaze across the bar, trying to sort through her scattered thoughts. "We should go dancing," she settled on, and Santana's lips quirked into a smile.

"Are you sure that's such a god idea, Q? You got mad at me last time." There was a teasing note in the brunette's voice that made Quinn stick her tongue out at the other woman, who laughed. "You know, drunk you is _way _more fun than sober you."

"I feel like I should be offended by that."

"Yeah, you probably should. Now, come on. If you wanna go dancing, who am I to deny you?" Quinn stumbled off the bar stool, and Santana's hands steadied her, warm through the thin material of the dress she was wearing. "Be careful," the brunette murmured into her ear and she suppressed a shudder at the feeling of her hot breath against her skin.

The cool light air cleared her head a little as they walked quickly down the street, and it was a belated second before Quinn realised that she was being steered past the club that she'd thought they were going to, and down a side-street until they were stood outside of a different one – one that she had never been in before for a very specific reason.

"Santana. This is a _gay _club."

"Well done, Q, I see that your powers of deduction are still in-tact even in your drunken stupor." They were stood a little ways away from the front door where a guy stood manning the door and checking the ID of everyone in the short line to get inside.

Quinn didn't even know they bothered to check ID anymore – most people had a fake one, and generally they were pretty realistic. She'd had her own for about two years, and it had never once been questioned.

"But… I can't go into a gay club. I'm not _gay_."

"Quinn," Santana started, trying to keep a straight face and failing – miserably. "You don't have to be gay to get in, you know."

"But…"

"But nothing. I'm checking out the scene here – either you come with me, or you can stay out here."

"You promised you wouldn't leave me on my own!" But Santana just shrugged and moved away to get in line, and after a few seconds and with a frustrated sigh, Quinn hurried after her. "I don't like you very much," she muttered once they were stood side-by-side once more, and Santana just grinned.

"Remind me to get you drinking more often. This is fun."

"If you say so." Santana took her hand as they were waved through and into the dark interior of the club, and maybe Quinn didn't mind so much about where they were if she got to hold hands with Santana.

But that was a bad thought, she reminded herself – she wasn't supposed to be thinking that. She was supposed to be forgetting that anything had ever happened between them.

Like that was ever going to happen.

It was busy inside, with bodies everywhere. The bar stretched along the far wall and there was a dancefloor in the centre of the room they were in, a stage to one side that didn't look like it was set to be used that night.

Santana wordlessly pulled Quinn onto the dancefloor, arms winding around the blonde's neck as she leant up to her ear in order to be heard over the pounding baseline of the song that was currently playing. "Still wanna dance?"

Unless Quinn was mistaken, there was definitely a seductive hint to the brunette's voice, and maybe Santana had had more to drink than Quinn had realised. She always had been better at holding her liquor, but Quinn hadn't thought that she was _this _good.

She didn't answer Santana's question – instead, she settled her hands on the brunette's hips, tentatively, trying to match the rhythm of the music and wondering when the last time that she'd let herself go and actually had fun had been.

Much too long ago, she decided, as Santana spun in her arms so that her back was pressed tightly against the blonde's front, one of her hands still wrapped around the blonde's neck, and Quinn wondered what the brunette would do if Quinn kissed her – she wasn't going to, because she knew, in the sensible non-drunk part of her mind, that that was a bad idea, but that didn't mean that she couldn't _imagine_.

The song changed to something faster, and then Santana's hips were moving along with the beat and her fingers were tightening in Quinn's hair as her ass was rocking back against the blonde's hips, and Quinn's eyes flickered shut, biting down on her bottom lip in an effort not to moan, because with how close Santana's ear was to her mouth, she would definitely hear it.

And there were supposed to be _friends. _Nothing more; nothing less. And friends most definitely did not start making out with each other in a crowded, hot club surrounded by other people – no, that was a definite no-no.

Yet Quinn found it hard to concentrate on that when each sway of the brunette's hips sent a spike of heat through her body, culminating between the centre of her thighs, and she couldn't help her fingertips from digging in, just slightly, into angular hipbones. Santana's reaction was slight, but it as there – her back arched, just slightly, and her head rocked back against Quinn's shoulder, affording the blonde with a wonderful view down the plunging neckline of the red dress that the brunette was wearing.

Okay, so maybe those shots had been a _really _bad idea, because she was ogling Santana's cleavage and had no idea how to stop because she wasn't wearing a bra and _fuck _if Quinn had never seen such perfection in her entire life and _oh god _she was definitely going to hell because apparently she was a breast girl which probably meant that she was gay – and not only gay, but gay for her _best friend_.

"I am so fucked," she whispered, aloud, but Santana, despite her proximity didn't seem to hear her, thankfully. Quinn didn't really know how much more of this she could take, so she stilled the brunette's hips gently and murmured into her ear. "I need a drink, do you want one?"

"No, but do you want me to come with you anyway?" Quinn shook her head as the brunette turned to face her – maybe some space from the Latina would be needed, after all. Santana merely shrugged and continued dancing, by herself now, as the blonde wandered over to the bar, deciding what to order.

Option one: she got some water and tried to sober herself up even more, and hopefully then she wouldn't do anything stupid. Then again, she usually managed to fuck things up when she tried really hard not to, so there was no guarantee of that.

Or, option two: she drank a hell of a lot more and then had the excuse of doing whatever the hell she wanted, with the added bonus of being able to blame it on the alcohol in the cold, harsh, light of day.

She decided on the latter option, eventually, mainly because trying to do the right thing all the time was exhausting, and also because she was kind of horny and Santana looked _amazing _and Quinn really wouldn't mind kissing her again.

Really, _really _wouldn't mind.

So she downed another two shots before moving through the crowd to find her brunette friend, but of course, she was now surrounded by about four different women who all looked like they would happily like a piece of her.

Quinn paused, a little ways away, noting that Santana wasn't dancing with any of them like she'd danced with the blonde, and when their eyes met something electric passed between the two of them, and she swore she saw a hint of desire flash in Santana's dark eyes.

"Coming back?" The brunette mouthed, and Quinn cocked her head to one side and crossed her arms over her chest, wondering what the brunette's next move was. When she shook her head in response to the question, Santana merely shrugged and turned to one of the women around her and with one look they were pressed together, but the brunette's eyes were still watching Quinn.

The blonde felt exposed, vulnerable, under the heat of Santana's gaze, and it was strangely erotic to watch the brunette dancing with someone else – when her eyes were trained on the blonde the whole time.

Quinn gulped, not quite sure how she was supposed to be reacting in this situation, but was saved the trouble when one of the other women who'd been watching Santana melted out of the crowd and appeared in-front of her.

She was a similar age to the blonde, perhaps a couple of years older, with sharp, angular cheekbones that stood out starkly against her pale skin and short, dark hair. Quinn deliberated only a moment before taking a step forward and then beginning to dance with her, instead, and her eyes found Santana's once more, even as the dark-haired woman took her hands and laid them at her waist.

She let herself feel the beat of the song, and moved accordingly, her natural instincts when it came to dancing kicking in, and she lost herself completely, barely even noticing anyone else around her – including the woman she was dancing against.

Well, everyone except Santana.

Because really, she could never forget the brunette, no matter how hard she tried. She didn't want to, either, not really. They shared too much, there was no erasing that. Their eyes kept finding each other, and there was definitely a heated look in those eyes, Quinn was sure of it.

She was so entranced by the movement of Santana's body that she didn't even notice that the mystery woman who's arms were around her neck (which didn't have nearly the same effect as it had when it was Santana's arms), was talking to her until she raised her voice a little louder over the music, and her gaze snapped to brilliantly blue eyes, face apologetic.

Sarah, apparently, was her name, and less than a second after that was established, a pair of soft lips had pressed against her own, and Quinn froze momentarily, completely _not sure _with how she was supposed to react in this situation before she decided _fuck it, I'm drunk, that is allowed_, and kissed her back.

It didn't last for long, because really, it didn't set her every nerve on fire and make her heart race like kisses from a certain other person did, but when they broke apart her gaze met Santana's furious one, and the only thought that echoed in her head was _oh, shit_, as the brunette stormed towards them and grabbed Sarah's arm, yanking her away from Quinn with a startling ferocity.

"Whoa, what the fuck?" Sarah turned to glare at the other brunette, anger kindling her eyes, but Quinn recognised the fury on Santana's face well enough to know that this was _not _going to end well and seized the brunette's arm, dragging her backward sand away from the tiny crowd that was forming around them and back towards the bar, with a mouthed apology to the woman who she'd been kissing a mere few seconds ago.

Santana pulled her arm out of Quinn's gasp and stalked away, leaving the blonde with little choice but to follow after her with a sigh. It wasn't until they were back outside, both shivering in the cold night air, that Santana stopped walking and turned to face her, arms crossed firmly across her chest.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked, irritation shining clearly on her face, and Quinn had no idea what had caused this reaction, no idea how to react, and she wished that she could read Santana's mind because god, would that make her life so much easier.

"I could ask you the same question!"

"_I'm _not the one getting it on with random people who I've known for all of five seconds!" Santana's voice increased in volume, and Quinn could only stare at her dumbly, not quite comprehending what the hell was happening – she'd definitely drank too much to deal with this.

"What? But I… You do it all the time!" Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best response, but that was about all she could come up with.

"But _you _don't."

"I honestly don't see what the problem is here, Santana. Why do you care so much?" Her own voice had gotten louder, and she forced herself to keep it down a little, noticing the looks they were receiving off a couple of others who were outside.

"I don't know." It was a broken whisper, and Quinn swore that just before Santana looked away, that she could see the glitter of tears in her eyes. Quinn sighed and took an unsteady step forward, until there was less than a foot of space between them.

"Let's just go home, okay?" The brunette nodded, and they made their way back relatively easily, with Quinn only stumbling once or twice. Santana was silent the whole way, and Quinn had no idea what to say, so they exchanged no words – the brunette would barely even _look _at her.

Once back inside the safety of her room, Quinn took one glance at Santana's stony face, decided that she didn't want to deal with that right now, and tugged her dress over her head, flinging it on the back of her desk chair and kicking off her heels.

If it wasn't for the soft noise that she heard behind her, she would have carried on towards her closet to pull on something to sleep in, but as it was she turned around, noting the way that Santana tried, and failed, not to let her eyes rake over the blonde's body.

It clicked, then – the reason that she'd acted so weird, and Quinn would have laughed if their situation hadn't been so fucked up. "You were jealous, weren't you? That I kissed that girl?" It was almost an exact mirror image of the last time they'd been out, except Quinn had never thought, even for a second, that she would have ever had the ability to make Santana jealous – especially not by kissing another woman in-front of her.

Mainly because she would never normally do that, but still.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." But the hungry look in her eyes betrayed her words, as did the way she licked her lips when Quinn took a deliberate step forward.

"Then prove it," she murmured, voice soft as velvet, feeling bolder than she ever had before. "Prove that you weren't jealous, by turning around right now, and walking away from me." Their eyes locked, and the intensity that she saw there stole the breath from her lungs.

"I don't need to prove anything to you." It was a whisper, and that alone let Quinn know that she was having at least some effect on Santana. She took another step closer, wondering where this new-found confidence had come from but not wanting to question it too much lest she stop this – because it was sure to go wrong, and sooner rather than later, but it was difficult to focus on that when she heard the brunette's breath hitch.

"Prove that you don't want me right now." They were even closer now, her breath ghosting across Santana's lips. "Because I think that you do."

"I shouldn't. I shouldn't want you. It's not… it's not _right_."

"Since when have you ever cared about the right thing?" Quinn's voice was low, husky, and her words tipped them over the precipice they'd been teetering on the edge of since Santana had turned up at her door – the brunette's lips pressed against hers, and hands puller her closer, and she forget about every reason why they shouldn't be doing this.

Santana's hands were gentler than the last two times they've kissed, skimming along her sides and then splaying across the small of her back, pressing them together more tightly, as Quinn's arms wrapped around the brunette's neck, twisting in dark hair as she opened her mouth to the Latina's insistent tongue.

She was led backwards towards the bed, and she toppled onto her back, Santana falling ontop of her. Her kiss tasted like cheap beer, and Quinn was sure this wouldn't be happening if they were both sober, but she didn't care – because she'd never felt more _alive _than she did right now, in this moment.

Her hands moved of their own accord to grip the brunette's bare thighs, pushing her short dress up until it was over her hips, her hands moving to dig into Santana's ass, as their mouths parted with a breathy moan from the brunette, as she instead pressed kisses down the column of Quinn's throat, a blaze of fire across her skin.

Her back arched as Santana reached her breasts, dragging her dress down harshly and reaching around Quinn's back easily to flick her bra open with a single twist, and then the brunette's mouth was covering her skin, teeth grazing across one nipple as the other was rolled between talented fingertips.

"_Fuck_," was all she could manage to say, her hips pressing upwards in a desperate search for friction. She had never felt like this before; never had something as little as this had her so turned on. Already, she felt embarrassingly close to the edge, could feel the growing wetness between her thighs.

Santana reared backwards suddenly, dragging Quinn up with her in order to bring the flimsy black dress over the blonde's head, removing her own red number a second later. Even though it wasn't the first time that Quinn had seen the other woman in just her underwear, she had never seen her quite like this – flushed, with her chest heaving with every breath, both breathtaking and devastating, all at once.

Her nails raked across a tanned back as their lips met again in a deep, hungry kiss, and she opened the clasp of the brunette's bra with only slight difficultly, wrenching it from her skin as soon as it came undone, and they both let out a groan as their bare breasts pressed together.

"I need you," Quinn whispered against swollen lips when they broke apart again, before she was pressed back down into the mattress as the brunette's hand ran down her side, pulling her legs apart gently as Santana rested her weight lightly ontop of her.

"Are you sure?" Their eyes met, and Quinn is sure that she's never seen Santana look so compassionate, looked at her with such reverence, but that's not what she needs. She needs unyielding, all-consuming passion, no feelings, no nothing – that's the only thing, she's sure, that won't confuse this.

If the line wasn't too blurred already. Maybe there was no going back – maybe they were past that. But as Santana's hands ran lightly across the apex of her thighs, pressing against her lightly through the thin black lace that covered her, she found that she didn't really care.

"Yes." They were kissing again, then, as her panties were pulled away, enough for Santana's hand to slide between her legs, running along her length once before circling her clit – her hips bucked upwards and her head fell back against the mattress in response, and she had _definitely_ never felt this good before.

Every single other sexual encounter she'd had had been awkward, and had _never _had her feeling like this. But Santana definitely knew what she was doing, was playing her almost like an instrument, and she was absolutely powerless to do anything except clutch at the small of her back with one hand, the other buried in her hair, as she bit her lip in an effort not to scream.

"You're sexy as fuck, Q, do you know that? I always imagined what it'd be like to fuck you, but this… this is definitely better than anything I could have ever come up with." The words were spoken into her ear, Santana's voice low, raspy, and it made a loud moan fall from her lips.

The brunette's pace slowed, teasing, and so she decided to get her own-back, cupping Santana's sex roughly, moaning again at the dampness she felt there.

"Shit, Quinn." Encouraged by that reaction, she pulled her underwear away from skin and angled her wrist between them, almost forgetting how to breathe when she felt how wet Santana was under her fingers, felt how swollen her clit was as she ran her index finger lightly along her length.

Santana's movements ceased as Quinn let herself explore the new-found area, and when she pressed one finger just slightly into the brunette, her hips moved down hard, and a ragged gasp left her mouth, breath hot against the blonde's skin.

When Santana mirrored the movement, her eyes rolled back in pleasure and she murmured a curse, feeling the brunette's lips curve into a smirk against her neck. So she pressed down harder, letting her thumb graze gently against Santana's clit, and just like that, they ended up setting up a rather furious rhythm, both matching the others movements, and Quinn was sure that no-one should be able to feel this good – she certainly never had before.

It wasn't long before she felt Santana started to tighten around her fingers, and she knew that she was near the edge – and so was Quinn, who'd been trying to desperately to hold off, not wanting to come too quickly, but then she reached the point of no return and her back arched, hips pressing upwards as she tumbled into a bliss that definitely solidified the fact that she had never ever had a proper orgasm before.

Santana came seconds later, muscles clenching around her fingers as her teeth found the blonde's neck, muffling her cry, and hard enough to leave a mark for the morning. The brunette collapsed ontop of her, and Quinn was sweaty and exhausted, but she didn't care as she wrapped her arms around Santana's back, panting into her hair.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

**Sorry this took longer than usual, I had a killer few weeks of uni work that meant I couldn't update when I wanted. But hopefully a new chapter makes up for the wait, and I'll try not to take so long in future - but I make no promises! There's a little something about American football in here, and as I'm from the UK I have very little knowledge of it, so I apologise if there are any grievous mistakes! **

When Quinn woke up the next morning, it was with a groan as sunlight hit her eyes, her head pounding. The weight of another body was draped across her chest, and she was inhaling the scent of a shampoo that definitely was not her own.

She cracked an eye open to ascertain that it was Santana, and then realised that the covers had slid down, revealing an expanse of smooth, tanned back, a perfect contrast to the paleness of her own skin.

It was only then that she realised that she was naked. And that Santana was, too. And that there were cuddling. Then the memories from last night hit her like a train: her, practically daring Santana to kiss her; them actually kissing, and then…

"Oh, _shit_."

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up." Santana's voice, sleepily, came from where her mouth was pressed, against the blonde's collarbone. "Are you gonna freak out, now? Because you're kinda comfy, Q, so I don't really wanna move unless I have to."

"I… we…"

"Yeah."

"Shit."

"You already said that." Her mind was a jumbled mess, not helped by the fact that she was definitely getting a hangover. And they were supposed to be beginning the drive back to Lima today – a six hour journey, in a small enclosed space, with her best friend, who she'd just so happened to have really hot sex with last night.

Shit.

"Why aren't _you _freaking out?" She asked instead, deciding that that was a safe option for conversation. Well. As safe as they could get.

"I don't know. Do you want me to?"

"No."

"You're going to make this awkward, aren't you?" Santana groaned, rolling so that she was lying on her side beside the blonde, propping her head up on one of her arms.

"I'm not _trying _to," she sighed, yanking the covers over her head so that she was no longer under the spell of the brunette's gaze, groaning when Santana pulled them back down. "Go away."

"That's not a very nice thing to say to the woman who you were begging to fuck you last night."

"Oh, please. I did not _beg_," she scoffed, jaw set, as she rolled slightly so that they were facing, both lying on their sides on the bed, a few inches of space between them – but not quite enough for her to no longer feel the heat coming from the bare skin.

"Details, details. Either way, I was the best you've ever had Fabray, admit it."

"You think awfully highly of yourself, don't you?" She challenged, unsure whether or not it was a good thing that they could talk about this so casually – and wondering where, exactly, they'd go from here.

Would it happen again? Did she _want _it to?

"Because I know I'm awesome," Santana shrugged, and Quinn rolled her eyes in response. "Come on, Q, just admit it. Your first time with a woman was better that with a guy."

"Please don't remind me about the first time I had sex," she shuddered, only half-joking. It had been awkward, full of nervous fumbling on her part, and the whole thing had just been generally unenjoyable.

Then there was the fact that she'd ended up pregnant after it all. Not really the best start to her sex life.

"Was it really that horrific?"

"Yes."

"Well," Santana said, stretching her arms above her head and smirking when Quinn's gaze lowered to her chest as the top of her breasts were revealed by the movement. "At least now you have something better to think about late at night when you're all alone and horny…"

"You're disgusting."

"Hardly. Just honest. And as much fun as this is, we should probably be leaving soon if we want to reach Pittsburgh in time for the game." Quinn rolled her eyes at that, still note entirely on-board with taking such a big detour _just _so that Santana could get her football fix – she'd seen enough herself when cheerleading, she didn't have any desire to watch it for fun. But, Santana did, and she was the one with the car, so Quinn couldn't really argue with her.

"Fine. I'll go for a quick shower and I'll be ready in an hour."

"I need a shower, too – wanna save water and have one together?" Santana's eyes sparkled with mirth, which made Quinn wonder if she was serious. It also made her wonder a lot of other things, like maybe whatever happened between them wasn't going to be written off as a drunken mistake that would never happened again, like she'd expected.

"That is a very very bad idea."

"Why? Cause you can't control yourself?" Their eyes met, and through Santana's smirk there was something else there, in her eyes, and if Quinn didn't know any better then she'd say it was desire.

"Hardly. Get up." Changing the subject seemed to be the best plan of action – she really, really needed to get away from the brunette and do some thinking on her own, if she was going to sort through this in her head.

Fortunately, Santana didn't argue and instead rolled gracefully from the bed, Quinn admiring her every curve before the brunette pulled on an over-sized t-shirt, effectively cutting off her view. "I'll see you in the bathroom, then," she shrugged, wrapping one of the blonde's spare towels around her waist and slinging another over her shoulder before grabbing some shampoo she'd bought for her stay and leaving Quinn alone.

"I am so fucked," she murmured aloud as soon as the Latina had disappeared. She remembered the previous night in vivid detail, though she wished she didn't – it made her feel things she wasn't ready to feel, and definitely not for Santana.

At least the whole experience had cemented something in her mind – Quinn Fabray and alcohol were a very, very bad, potentially catastrophic, combination.

With a sigh she hauled herself out of bed and to the showers, purposefully choosing the furthest one away from Santana's, the only other occupied stall. The hot water soothed away the slight headache she had, all that she was suffering from the alcohol consumption.

She rested her head lightly against the cool tile wall, trying to sort through her churning thoughts. Last night had been a mistake, but she couldn't deny that it hadn't been thoroughly enjoyable. That didn't mean that a repeat performance would be a good idea, though – much as she might want it.

And god, did she want it.

But that would lead to places that she wasn't prepared to go, because she was fairly certain that the only thing Santana would want (if indeed, she wanted anything at all), would be strictly casual, and Quinn was fairly sure that she couldn't deal with that.

"Fabray, hurry the fuck up." Santana's voice made her jump, effectively cutting off her train of thought, and she wondered how long she'd been stood there. Hopefully not for too long.

"I'll be out in a second. Jeez." She heard the bathroom door open and shut, and washed her hair quickly, shutting off the water and wrapping herself in a towel a second later, drying off a little before pulling on black panties and a matching bra. She slipped the towel under her arms for longer enough to hurry back to her room, pausing once inside to admire the view of Santana bending over to pick some of her clothes off the floor and shove them into a bag, ready to take with her.

"Pervert."

"Fuck you," Quinn muttered under her breath, turning hastily away from the brunette, instead choosing to pull on some jeans, letting the towel drop and hanging it up to dry.

"You already did," Santana taunted from behind her, but she didn't engage with the brunette. She wasn't sure she could handle it. "Are we ever going to talk about it properly, Q? Last night was - "

"A mistake," she replied, spinning back around to face Santana, now fully dressed, with her arms crossed across her chest. She saw one of the brunette's eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but she smoothed her expression into something more neutral quickly.

"Oh?"

"Come on, S. You're still in love with someone else, and I…" She trailed off, because honestly, she wasn't sure _what _she was right now. Well, apart from a hot mess.

"You're what? Not into chicks? Because the way you were all over me last night was pretty fucking gay, Q."

"I was drunk!" She replied, voice rising an octave in exasperation, but Santana just rolled her eyes, far more dramatically than the situation called for.

"Riiight. Whatever. If you want to ignore whatever happened last night, then fucking fine."

"You _don't _want to ignore it?" She countered, watching the brunette's expression carefully, but it was useless – Quinn couldn't read Santana, and she probably never would be able to.

"I don't know. But it was fun," the brunette shrugged as though that explained away everything. "Whatever. Have your gay freakout. But hurry the fuck up and get ready because this," she gestured between the two of them with one hand, "is not messing with my football plans."

"You are _impossible_," Quinn hissed, slightly disgusted that Santana thought that a _sport _was more important than whatever was going on with them, but then again, she wasn't really surprised – Santana was even more of an expert in avoidance tactics than Quinn was, sometimes. "Fine. Give me five minutes."

She didn't bother drying her hair, trusting that it would dry itself on the long drive to Pittsburgh. After shoving the remainder of the stuff she was taking home with her into her biggest suitcase, she was ready, and Santana left her alone for a few brief seconds in order to load up the car.

"I still can't believe you drove all the way out here from Kentucky," Quinn commented as she slid into the passenger seat of the brunette's black mustang – a present for her eighteenth birthday, and one that the blonde was insanely jealous of.

Santana merely shrugged in response, and Quinn sighed in exasperation as the brunette tore away from the curb, wondering if they were going to spend the entire drive in silence. Was that going to be her punishment for last night? Her hangover was setting in even more, now, and she kept replaying scenes from last night in her head, remembering the brunette's light touches – surely _that _was torture enough.

"You could have better music on," Quinn muttered after about half an hour had passed, with her staring out of the window as the highway flashed by. The radio station the brunette had on was filled with pounding dance music – the kind that Quinn would never willingly listen to.

"Change it if you want," Santana replied, her eyes never leaving the road. Quinn chanced a glance over at her, studying her profile, stark against the weak sunlight filtering into the car, before shaking her head and messing with the radio, stopping only when a song she actually liked came on. "This is depressing as fuck, Q."

"No, it's not," she murmured with indignation, just glad that Santana had finally broken her vow of silence.

"Uh, yeah it is. I didn't realise spending so much time with me would drive you to such a low point."

"Well, you know, you _are _pretty unbearable." She chanced a glance over to the brunette at that, and saw that Santana was already looking her way – their eyes met, and Quinn saw indescribable warmth, swimming in brown, and could only start breathing properly again when she looked away. "Eyes on the road."

"Don't you trust me?"

"I will if you keep looking at the road."

"I see how it is – no faith in me whatsoever. I'm offended. Also, I hope you know where we're going."

"What?!" That forced her gaze back to the brunette, who was biting her lip in an effort not to smile.

"I'm driving, therefore _your _job to give directions."

"You said you knew where you were going!" Quinn cried, staring at the side of Santana's face, aghast, even as the brunette chuckled.

"Oh, did I? My mistake."

"I'm going to kill you," Quinn muttered, slightly venomously, under her breath, causing Santana to emit another amused chuckle.

"I'm far too pretty for you to kill, Q. And besides, you'd miss me." The brunette's eyes were sparkling when they locked, briefly, with hazel, and Quinn just glared until Santana's eyes flickered back to the road, muttering curses as a red Camaro cut in-front of them, forcing her to slam on the brakes pretty suddenly. "Asshole."

"I know you are," Quinn sing-songed, eyes now on her phone as she studiously ignored the glowering that was aimed at the side of her head. After a few more minutes of comfortable silence, she decided that she wasn't going to get much conversation out of the brunette and kicked off her shoes, curling her legs to her chest and pulling a book out of her bag to read – she loved the classics, and it made her heart ache when she didn't have enough time to read, which she hadn't lately.

Damn Yale for keeping her so busy.

"Yo. Q. Seriously," Santana's voice tore her eyes away from the words on the page, and she turned to face her, a little angry at the intrusion.

"_What_?" She snapped, watching the brunette's eyebrows raise, no doubt in response to her tone.

"Wow. _Rude_. I've been trying to get your attention for like, five minutes."

"Oh. Sorry." She managed a sheepish smile as her cheeks flamed red, pressing the cover of the book closed and sliding back into her bag. "My attention is fully yours."

"I'm so honoured to have the privilege," the brunette replied, dryly, and Quinn merely grinned, noting with shock that they were already driving past the outskirts of New York city – she must have been engrossed in her book for at least an hour. "I was asking whether you wanted to get food soon. As I'll need to stop for gas anyway."

"Sure. Want to swap over when we do?"

"Are you kidding? As _if _I'd trust you with my baby." Quinn rolled her eyes at the horror that crossed the brunette's face.

"Come on, S, I'm a good driver!"

"You totalled your car on the way to Berry's ridiculous wedding, Q."

"Uncalled for!" It wasn't a fond memory – the month she'd spent in hospital had been the worst of her life, and that included her pregnancy. Not to mention the fear that she'd never learn to walk again. But she had, and she was all the stronger for it – she'd made it to Yale, and she was alive. She was okay.

She was surviving, which was all she knew how to do.

"Uh, no it's not. You were texting. Not cool."

"Yeah, and I'm hardly going to do it again; my lesson is firmly learned, trust me. And besides, you'll be exhausted if you drive the whole way back."

"I don't fucking care, I'd rather be ready to pass out when we get to a motel then be wrapped around a pole with the way you drive."

"You're unbelievable," Quinn muttered under her breath, but Santana still heard.

"Unbelievably amazing," she shot back, making Quinn roll her eyes once more. Their conversation was cut short when the brunette pulled over at a gas station, leaving the blonde in the car while she filled up. "You're paying for food, by the way," Santana quipped when she was back in the driver's seat, steering them towards the diner down the street.

"Oh, am I, now?"

"Uh-huh. Gas ain't cheap, you know." Quinn merely shook her head, stretching as soon as she was out of the car, feeling her joints pop after being confined in the same position for so long. Santana appeared at her side a moment later, locking the car before leading them towards the entrance of the diner. "We're sitting by a window, I wanna see my car at all times."

"Afraid someone's going to steal it?"

"Obviously – it's a hot piece of car ass, Fabray, any idiot can see that. Even you can." The brunette smiled sweetly as she held the door open for the blonde.

"You should probably be nicer to me if I'm paying, you know," Quinn mused as they sat opposite each other in a booth, a waitress bringing them menus. The place was pretty empty, with only around three other tables occupied – Quinn hoped that that wasn't indicative of the quality of the food.

"This _is _me being nice to you."

"Could've fooled me." Santana merely smiled serenely at her across the table, and Quinn chose to studiously ignore the other woman, her gaze settling on the menu in-front of her – there wasn't a lot, but she was hungry enough not to really care.

They both ordered a salad, and Quinn settled back in the chair, letting her eyes fall to the window. The sky was overcast with clouds, and they had a slight tint to them which made her think snow would soon be falling – she just hoped that they were safely off the road before it started to come down.

Half an hour later they were back on the highway, after another slight argument over who would be driving (Santana won, of course), and Quinn was happily back buried in her book, the soft sound of the brunette singing along to the radio the only noise in the car.

x-x-x

Several hours later they were pulling up outside the motel where they were set to stay for the night – it wasn't the nicest of places, but on such short notice it'd have to do. And besides, the price was worth it, in Quinn's opinion.

But she barely had enough time to throw her bag to the floor and perch on the end of the bed (the _only _bed, she'd noted with slight disdain as she'd walked through the door – she had no idea what boundaries they were supposed to impose now, and the thought of sleeping in the same bed together was a slightly terrifying prospect), before Santana was ordering her to get up and get ready.

"But we only just got here!" Quinn whined as the brunette disappeared into the tiny bathroom, appearing back around the door to glare at the blonde.

"Stop complaining, you didn't just drive for six hours."

"I offered to!"

"That's not the same thing – get ready, Q." Her head disappeared, then, as she shut the door, leaving an exhausted Quinn to mutter curses that the brunette couldn't hear. She ran a brush through her hair and decided to change her t-shirt into something more dressy than the plain one she had on now, and of _course _Santana chose that moment to stride back into the bedroom, as the blonde was riffling through her bag for something more suitable.

Their eyes met, and any smart-ass comment that Quinn had been ready to say died on her lips as she noted the way that Santana's gaze flickered, deliberately, down her body, tracing every inch of her skin with a hungry gaze.

Maybe it wouldn't be so easy to pretending that they hadn't been ripping off each other's clothes just a few hours ago.

The spell was broken as Quinn yanked on another shirt, turning hastily around so that the brunette wouldn't see the flush that covered her cheeks. They were leaving the room ten minutes later, the reluctant blonde practically having to be dragged by an exuberant Santana, and Quinn would be lying if she claimed that she didn't find Santana's excitement adorable.

They ate quickly, and then Quinn was being dragged towards the football stadium, the crowds gradually increasing the nearer they got, and the blonde instinctively seized the brunette's hand so that she didn't lose her. Or that was her excuse for it, anyway.

"You could look a _little _more excited to be here, Q," Santana commented once they were inside and in their seats. The stadium was still half-empty, with there being a half an hour gap until the game began, and the blonde was quite content with enjoying the view that their seats, near the top tier, afforded them.

"This is my overjoyed face," the blonde deadpanned, shuffling a little closer to Santana in her seat as the one to her left was taken.

"Pretty sure I saw your overjoyed face last night, Q," the brunette retorted, voice low in Quinn's ear as she leant close, and Quinn turned to face her, appalled at the comment.

"Santana!"

"Quinn!" The blonde chose to ignore the close proximity they were in, with the brunette's inviting lips just a few centimetres from her own, as she opened her mouth to begin her tirade.

"That is wholly inappropriate, Santana - "

"Oh calm you tits, Fabray, I just wanted to see the look of outrage on your face if I dropped in a comment like that. You can stop ranting now; you sound like Berry."

"I do _not_!"

"Uh, yeah, you do. Look, do you want a drink? I'm going to go get one."

"You can't _leave _me here!" The blonde hissed, grabbing the brunette's wrist as she stood up to leave, turning back to face Quinn with a slightly sardonic smile.

"You're a big girl now, Q, I'm sure you can take care of yourself. Don't talk to any strangers." She pried the blonde's fingers from her arm and wandered back down their row, disappearing into the interior of the stadium and leaving a furious Quinn behind.

She pulled out her phone in an effort not to seem like a complete loner, and noticing for the first time that she had a text – from Puck, of all people. She hadn't really spoken to him much recently, not since Thanksgiving, but she realised as she read the message why he was contacting her so suddenly.

_Party at my place tomorrow night. You suck if you can't make it._

She bit her lip as she read, wondering if she was going to go – Puck's parties were always pretty awesome, but that was before, when she considered the glee club her closest friends. But now? Now she hadn't spoken to any of them in weeks, save Santana and Brittany.

When the brunette returned her face was pensive, which made Quinn think that she, too, had been invited. The first words out of Santana's mouth confirmed as much.

"Are you gonna go?"

"I don't know. But I do know that it won't be as fun if you're not there." A brief smile tugged at Santana's lips, before it disappeared back into a frown.

"But _she'll _be there."

"Probably. Think about it," Quinn suggested. "And let me know what you decide on." The brunette made a non-committal in response, and remained silent for a while, staring straight ahead and making Quinn worry – she saw, for the first time in several days, the echo of the broken girl who had appeared, literally, on her doorstep just a week ago.

But thankfully, once the players were out on the pitch and the game was just a few minutes away from starting, Santana perked up a bit, and Quinn couldn't help but be glad that they'd come, then - it was worth it if it cheered the brunette up.

She knew the rules, roughly, but she was still completely lost by the time that half-time rolled around – apart from knowing that the home side were 'walking it', according to Santana. Quinn had to admit that she'd spent half of the game sneaking glances at her companion, fascinated by how unguarded the brunette was, here – a complete opposite from her usual persona, and a welcome change.

"You keep staring at me," Santana murmured when the players had disappeared back into the dressing room for the brief break, her attention snapping to meet hazel eyes instead of watching the cheerleaders currently performing. "If you're worried about me, Q, I'm fine, honestly."

That hadn't been the reason, not at all, but Quinn was happy to agree with it as long as it kept the brunette away from realising that the truth was that she couldn't stop staring because she was completely enraptured – but that would probably lead down a very complicated road that Quinn wasn't even remotely ready for.

"Just checking," she replied with instead of the truth, shrugging her shoulders and letting her gaze fall onto the pitch as the pyramid was forming, remembering what it had been like to be on the top – she'd felt like the queen of the world, sometimes.

And now? Now she felt like a nobody, but the first time in a long while she was starting to think that that might not be such a bad thing.

"Reckon they have their very own Sue Sylvester behind the scenes yelling abuse at them?" Santana asked, soft smile on her face as she too, looking down, perhaps getting lost in the past as well.

"I'll be sorely disappointed if they don't. Although I _really _don't think there's anyone quite like Coach out there in the world."

"That is very true," the brunette agreed with a nod, and they both joined in the applause as the cheerleaders finished their show, ready for the second half to begin. Quinn _tried _to keep her eyes on the pitch, she really did, but she just couldn't help straying occasionally to the gorgeous brunette at her side.

It was a probably a bad thing, but she decided that she could worry about that later, when they weren't spending every minute of every day together. She'd miss having Santana around, she had to admit, but the breathing space from the brunette would be welcome. The idea of heading back to Yale in January though, without her, was just a little unbearable – there'd be eleven hours between them once more, and that seemed like an impossible distance.

After the game (finally) finished, they headed back to the motel to sleep. Their hands ended up intertwined, again, but this time they didn't let go until they were practically at their room door – neither commented on the interaction, but Quinn couldn't help feeling the loss once Santana's hand dropped from hers.

The blonde longed for a shower after being cooped up in the car all day, but she lacked the energy to and instead ended up collapsing onto the bed, groaning as Santana prodded at her in an effort to make her move to allow the brunette to slip under the covers. It was only when the tickling started that Quinn relented, scrambling to her feet in order to evade the brunette's hands with a glare.

They got changed into their pyjamas wordlessly, both on their respective sides of the bed and facing away from one another, even though the room was dark. It wasn't awkward, though, like Quinn had expected – she was too tired to do awkward, and Santana must have been too, considering she'd been the one driving.

Quinn curled up gratefully under the slightly itchy sheets, and she felt Santana shiver beside her, the bed being colder than both of them expected. The blonde wished she'd brought warmer clothes to sleep in, but it was too late now.

"You'd think it should be a legal requirement to have heating in places like this," Santana called out into the darkness, through chattering teeth, and Quinn rolled to her side, pressing against the brunette's side. "I don't do cuddling, Q."

"Even when it's cold enough to get frostbite?" The blonde inquired, face pressed against the brunette's shoulder. "And you were cuddling me this morning."

"I was not."

"Yeah, you were. You told me not to move because you were too comfy. If that's not cuddling then I don't know what is." She felt, rather than heard, the brunette laugh, and then there was a warm (or warmer than the sheets, anyway), arm wrapped around her waist, tugging her ever closer.

"Just to be clear," Santana murmured, breath brushing the top of the blonde's head. "This is only happening because it's like the fucking Artic in here."

"Sure, sure," Quinn murmured, mouth pressed against the brunette's neck, now – and she swore that the shiver that rolled down Santana's spine as her lips moved over the words was due to something other than the cold.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**

**Just wanted to take the time to thank everyone who's favourited/alerted/reviewed this story so far; you guys are awesome :) **

**This chapter is a bit of a monster, so enjoy!**

* * *

"So, I'll see you tonight, Q?" They were parked outside of Quinn's driveway, the blonde looking at the front door with apprehension, not particularly wanting to be here but knowing she had little choice.

"You're going to Puck's, then?" Her gaze flickered back to land on Santana's face – the brunette was watching her with mixed emotions swarming in her dark eyes, and Quinn couldn't even begin to pick out what she was seeing there, reflected back at her.

"Yeah, I guess. I can pick you up and we can go together, if you want."

"Sure. Sounds like a plan." She fiddled absently with the strap of her bag, wondering why things were feeling so awkward – almost like it was that time, when on a date, when you were walked home and couldn't decide whether the moment was right to kiss goodnight.

But this wasn't a date and she shouldn't be thinking about kissing Santana, so she forced her gaze back out of the window and released a deep sigh – she'd have to move at some point. "Bye, Santana," she murmured, and felt a light squeeze against her upper thigh. She hadn't even noticed the brunette reaching out to her, but she brushed her fingers lightly across the back of her hand before she unclipped the seatbelt and stepped out of the car, gracing the Latina with one last smile before shutting the door behind her and turning to face her house with a deep sense of trepidation.

She hadn't brought much back with her, just her single bag, but it was enough. She wasn't planning on staying for long, after all – just the minimum she could get away with. Quinn pulled the strap of her bag higher up on her shoulder and walked forward, noting the door being pulled open in-front of her as her mother hovered in the doorway, smile on her face.

Judy Fabray had improved, in a motherly role, ever since she and Russell had split, all those years ago when she'd been pregnant. It wasn't a period of her life that she was particularly proud, or fond, of, but she liked to think that it had built her into who she was today – and _that_, at least, was something that she could be proud of.

"Quinnie!" Her mother called as she approached, and she forced a smile as the smaller woman came forward and enveloped her in a tight hug. Behind her, she heard the roar of Santana's car's engine as she pulled away, and she felt a sting at her absence, even though she knew it was stupid – they'd only been apart for mere seconds, after all. "I've missed you."

"Missed you too, Mom," she murmured, because she had, kind of. She loved living on her own, away from everything that was Lima, but… there was still something oddly comforting about being back at home, even if it was always tinged with memories that she'd really rather forget.

Inside, everything was much the same as it had been during Thanksgiving – except for the eager Labrador dog that leapt up at the blonde as soon as she was through the door. "Frannie's here?" She turned to ask Judy, one hand absently running across the dog's head as he sniffed at her legs, tail wagging furiously. Hugo was about the only good part of Frannie's visits, Quinn had found, with the older Fabray sister taking more after their father than their mother.

"She and Patrick got here last night." Patrick was her sister's perfect husband, the guy she'd been dating since high-school and married to for the last few years. He was a good guy, but rather boring, in Quinn's opinion – much like most other members of her family. "They're out at the minute, though. I'm sure they'll be back soon for you to catch up, though."

"Joy," she muttered, under her breath so her Mom couldn't hear, side-stepping the curious Lab to head down the hall and to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water to drink as she set her bag down on the counter, Judy following her inside.

"How was the trip back?"

"It was alright, except I wasn't allowed to drive."

"Well, we all know how much Santana loves that car. Is she feeling better?" While Quinn hadn't elaborated on what, exactly, was wrong with the brunette, because aside from teenage pregnancy there was only so much more that Judy could take being supportive of – she knew about Santana's sexuality, but they didn't really talk about it – so she'd left out most of the major details.

"I don't know. She's not exactly the most easy to read person in the world," Quinn shrugged, wishing that that wasn't as true as it was. "Um, do we have plans later?"

"Aside from dinner? No, I don't think so. Why, do you have something on with your friends?"

"Puck's having a party."

"Ah, I see." There was still a slight stigma over Puck's name in the Fabray household, but generally it wasn't a problem. "I'm assuming other people will be there?"

"Yes, Mom," the blonde replied with a slightly over-dramatic eye roll. Puck wasn't even on her radar anymore – she was _much _more likely to make stupid decisions involving someone else entirely. But _that _didn't bear thinking about, even though on more than one occasion she found her mind fleeing back to that night, remembering dark flashes of smooth skin, panting breaths, a hot mouth and slick fingers.

"Okay, then. Just don't be back too late. And if you are then try and be quiet." Judy winked, just once, showing that she was still much looser now that she was separated from Russell, and left the blonde alone, pottering off into the backyard.

She decided to leave her stuff in her room and jump in the shower – she felt disgusting after spending so long in a car over the last few days, and headed upstairs, Hugo bounding along beside her.

"You can't come in here with me, you know," she called to him as he watched her standing beside the bathroom, curling up on her bed with his head cocked to one side. "Don't eat anything," she warned before she stepped through into the bathroom, locking it behind her and stripping off her clothes before stepping under the heated spray of the shower.

It felt divine, and she spent a bit longer in there than she'd originally anticipated. Hopping out quickly when she heard her mother shouting up the stairs to ascertain that she was, in-fact, still alive and hadn't slipped and drowned, she was dressed and had her hair dry within the next fifteen minutes, heading back downstairs when she realised that it was fast approaching five o' clock.

Puck's party only started at nine – which _really _meant that it only started at half ten – so she had a good few hours before then to get ready. But first, socialising was on the menu, as she noted that Patrick and Frannie's car was parked in the driveway.

"Hey, Quinn," Patrick was the first one she crossed paths with, as he appeared in the doorway of the living room as she was about to walk in, easy smile on his face. "Like the new hair."

"Thanks," she managed to smile back, hand straying to the edges of her hair where it had finally grown back after she'd cut it shorter. She could hear soft voices coming from behind him and faltered, for just a second, before taking and deep breath and stepping into the room.

Frannie's eyes lifted to hers immediately, running over her figure critically, before glancing back to their mother's face. They'd been close, when they were younger, but that had quickly changed as they grew older, and now they barely talked, except when they were forced. More often than not, their conversations turned into thinly-veiled insults – and Quinn was usually on the receiving end, because God forbid that Frannie ever did anything wrong.

"He misses you, you know, Mom," her sister was saying as Quinn moved to sit in the empty chair beside the fireplace, curling her legs underneath her. "You should at least _try _talking to him." The blonde froze as the words sunk in, back stiffening in realisation – but no, surely, _surely, _Frannie couldn't be talking about their father. Surely.

"I don't think so, Frannie."

"Why? Because of _her_?" The elder Fabray sister's eyes slid over to Quinn's, her tone accusing, and Quinn's hands curled into fists as she forced herself to not rise to the bait, to not get involved. "He's sorry about everything that he did. Even though frankly it's her own fault for getting kocked up in the first place."

"Frannie!" Judy's voice was harsh, as Quinn flushed in anger, biting her lip to keep words from bursting forth from her mouth. "Don't talk about your sister like that."

"Even though it's her fault that we're not a family anymore?"

"We never _were _a family, Frannie," the blonde spat, unable to keep quiet any longer. Her sister's eyes, so like her own, shot to hers, a challenge swirling in their depths. "You couldn't _breathe _in this house with him here. You couldn't do anything without running the risk of pissing him off – and all three of us knew that it was best to avoid him after the fourth drink. He's not changed, even you must know that. Unless, of course, you're as idiotic as I've always thought."

"How _dare _you speak to me like that? You have no right to talk down to me, Quinn, with everything considered. I mean, you _did _get pregnant at fifteen, give birth at sixteen – you do know that sex before marriage is sinful, don't you?"

"Oh, so you never had sex with anyone before you got married? Because I heard that while you were at high school you fucked at least two members of the football team, and then there was the _basketball _team too - how many of them were on your list?"

"You fucking - "

"_Girls_! Judy's voice was filled with fury, her face red, and jaw clenched as her eyes moved between the pair of them. Frannie's eyes still flashed, dark and dangerous in their anger, and she knew that there would be some sharp words coming her way the next time they were alone, but Quinn didn't care.

She was _tired _of being afraid to speak in her own home. She was tired of having to put up with her sister's shit; she was just tired of _everything_. She wished she hadn't come home for the holidays, but she knew the guilt she'd have felt from staying at Yale, of refusing her mother when she'd begged the blonde to come back, would have felt almost as bad as this.

"I want you both to apologise to each other," Judy continued, and Quinn just looked at Frannie with a raised eyebrow – there was no way in hell that she was going to say it first. Stubborness was her forte, after all. "Frannie?"

"I'm not apologising to her. She deserved every word."

"I'm sick of the two of you arguing – can you not just try to get along, for once? Please? It's the holidays." There was a note of desperation to her mother's voice that broke Quinn's resolve, just a little – but not enough. She knew the look in her sister's eyes well; the one that said that no, she wasn't going to back down.

"I'm sorry, Frannie," she drawled, climbing to her feet, eyes landing on her sister's face, noting the shock that she found there and relishing it for a second before she spoke again. "Sorry that you're such a stuck-up bitch, that is. I'm sorry, Mom, but I'm not going to sit here and play happy families when all she's talking about is wanting Dad to come home."

"Where are you going?" Judy called as the blonde made her way to the door, all too ready to leave.

"Puck's," she called over her shoulder, already out of the room. "Don't expect me back anytime soon." She'd brought a bag downstairs with her, expecting that something akin to this might have happened, which had her dress and everything else that she'd need to get ready for Puck's in.

She grabbed it and her car keys and left without another word, slamming the front door loudly behind her. She didn't allow herself to replay any of the conversation until she was in her car and driving away – but even then, it just filled her with anger, her blood boiling as her hands clenched hard around the steering wheel.

She didn't even thinking about where she was going, just drove mindlessly, and it was only after she'd made a few turns that she realised where she was automatically heading – Santana's. Of _course_.

She pulled over to the side of the road with a sigh and dialled the brunette's number quickly, tapping the steering wheel impatiently as she waited for her to pick up. _"Hello?_" She answered after only three rings, sounding highly confused. _"I was only supposed to pick you up at ten. Wasn't I?"_

"Yeah, well, change of plan."

_"Why?"_

"Because my sister's an infuriating bitch? Can I come over to your place for a bit? And maybe stay over tonight?" There was a beat of silence on Santana's end of the line, and Quinn sighed. "Never mind, forget that last part, I don't want to intrude on your time with your family." It came out slightly bitter, and she _tried _not to be irritated that the brunette didn't want to spend more time with her, because she was going to have to get used to it. She doubted they'd be talking as much when they returned to the respective colleges.

_"Are you kidding, Q? My Mom's already driving me crazy, you're welcome to crash here, it might get her off my back for a bit. How long are you gonna be?"_

"About five minues?"

_"Okay, see you then."_ The line clicked and then she was driving again, making the familiar turns to get her to the brunette's house, pulling up in the driveway beside the Mustang and jumping out, slinging her bag over her shoulder before making her way to the door and knocking.

"Hey," Santana answered the door with a ready smile, which faded slightly when she took in the blonde's expression. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You're crying."

"What? No I'm n - " She raised her hand to her eyes and cut herself off when she felt moisture under her fignertips. She hadn't even realised, and wiped the tears away hastily with the back of her hand. "I'm fine," she repeated, ignoring the doubtful look on the brunette's face.

"Quinn! Are you going to invite her in, Santana? God lord, where are your _manners_? Come in, come in!" Santana's mom appeared over her shoulder, and the brunette merely rolled her eyes dramatically and stepped to one side, gesturing for the blonde to step inside.

"Please, Quinn, come into my home," the Latina deadpanned, which made her mother tut loudly behind her.

"You think you're so funny, don't you?"

"That's because I am, obviously."

"Hm. Sure." With a wink towards the blonde the older woman turned and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

"Come on, let's go upstairs before she comes back and accuses me of not being a good enough host." The brunette bounded up the stairs, Quinn following behind her and into Santana's bedroom. It was as familiar to the blonde as her own room, but somehow, being in here after what had happened between them recently made it feel different. More private, more intimate – the feeling only amplified by the click of the bedroom door shutting behind them.

Santana's Siamese cat, Anastasia, was sprawled across the seat of the brunette's huge window, which looked out onto the beautiful backyard – the cat watched Quinn with knowing blue eyes, tail twitching lazily. She was notorious for hating everyone apart from Santana – which, Quinn reflected, matched the brunette's personality extremely well because half the time she didn't seem to like anyone but herself, either.

"I can't believe we've been home for all of three hours and we're already being driven insane," Santana broke the blonde out of her reverie, and Quinn's eyes found the brunette, sitting cross legged in the middle of her double bed. "What did Frannie do this time?"

"She wants Daddy to come home so that we can pretend to play happy families again." The blonde let out a frustrated sigh and collapsed onto the bed beside Santana, letting her bag fall to the floor.

"Your sister's crazy."

"Tell me about it. I hope she's adopted. Actually, no – I hope _I'm _adopted, at least then I wouldn't be related to Russell." She fell back on the bed so that she was lying down, the brunette on her right. She felt Santana's eyes run down the length of her body before their eyes met and shivered under the weight of her gaze. "I just don't think I can deal with it if my Mom wants him back."

"Do you think she does?"

"I don't know," the blonde shrugged. "I think she's been lonely lately, especially with me being at Yale, but… I like to think she'd never take him back."

"It'll be okay."

"Will it?" A note of desperation crept into her voice, and she felt tears sting her eyes once more but forced them away. Santana's hand moved across the space between them and rested hesitantly across the blonde's, squeezing gently.

Quinn knew it was meant in a gesture of comfort, but her skin blazed under the light touch of Santana's fingertips, and she cursed her body for reaction the way it did to the brunette – she didn't need this added complication in her life right now. She wanted nice, normal – she definitely did not need to be developing feelings for her gorgeous best friend.

"It'll work itself out, Q. Things always do." Quinn's gaze sharpened at Santana's words, wondering if there was a double meaning in there – wondering, mainly, if the brunette was thinking about Brittany.

The thought crushed anything else she may have been feeling, jaw tightening when she remembered that she had very little chance of making anything with Santana when the brunette was so hung up on another woman. Her first love.

Whatever they had was just sex – that was all it ever could be.

But maybe she could be okay with that, she pondered, as Santana's fingers made their way shakily up her arm, skating up to her shoulder and then back down again, her eyes locked on the blonde's the whole time.

"Why do you make me feel like this?" Santana whispered, voice husky, but Quinn could only shake her head because she didn't know the answer to that, either.

"Like what?" Quinn's voice was quiet, low, barely able to think with Santana's hands on her – even though they were barely touching, what she was doing felt oddly erotic, and her eyes fluttered closed for just a brief second.

But Santana didn't answer, merely pinned Quinn with a look so heated that she forgot to think – forgot to _breathe _ – there was only Santana, and that was the only thing that mattered. The brunette moved to lean down, and Quinn was ready to meet her half-way, lips already parted in anticipation when the door banged open – the sprang apart guiltily, Santana scrambling backwards and leaving a few metres of space between them.

"Mom, have you ever heard of knocking?" Santana ground out through gritted teeth, but her mother merely rolled her eyes and tutted.

"Manners, sweetie, _manners_. Yes, I have heard of knocking, but I chose not to, mainly because I'm sure there was nothing unsavoury going on in here. I'm not wrong, am I?" She fixed Quinn with a stare that had a light flush covering her cheeks, and she looked hastily away – but not before she saw the knowing glint in Maribel's dark eyes.

"Obviously not, Mom. What do you want?" There was a sharp edge to Santana's voice, which Maribel was bound to notice, but Quinn just kept quiet, inspecting her fingers closely instead of risking another glance upwards.

"Hm. Okay. I was just wondering what time you two were heading out?"

"I don't know. Soon?"

"Do you want food?"

"We'll just order a pizza or something."

"But I made lasagne! And you don't look like you've been eating enough in Kentucky, Santana, so I'm planning to feed you up this holiday. Be downstairs in five minutes." Maribel turned and exited before either of them could protest.

"I hope you like lasagne," Santana murmured, one side of her mouth quirked upwards into a grin. Quinn forced her smile, wondering if she should be reading into why the brunette was so willing to write their almost-kiss off as though it was nothing – but then she decided that she didn't have the energy to expend on that right now.

Quinn could feel Santana's mother's watchful eyes on them the entire time they were eating, but tried to shrug it off. When the brunette excused herself afterwards to go to the bathroom, however, leaving Quinn and Maribel alone, the blonde couldn't avoid her anymore – her eyes lifted across the table, and she bit her lip.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Quinn. Santana's not easy to be around; I'm sure you know that."

"I know," the blonde murmured in response, because really, what else could she say? She was just glad that Mrs Lopez hadn't felt it appropriate to throw her out of the house for doing inappropriate things to her daughter – though thankfully she didn't know the extent of that.

"Just… be careful," the elder woman offered, not unkindly, just before Santana reappeared into the room.

"We should probably start getting ready soon, Q – I know how long you take." Santana was leaning against the doorframe, eyes regarding the blonde and her mother curiously.

"Oh, please, you are _way _slower than I am, S, don't even try to deny it."

"Hardly," Santana scoffed as Quinn rose to her feet, turning to face the brunette fully. Santana's expression was teasing, her voice light, and the blonde wished it could always be like this – so easy – between them.

"Uh, yes. Stop using other people as an excuse to hide it."

"I do no such thing! _You're _the slowpoke here, Fabray, just admit it."

"Never," Quinn breathed as she stepped past Santana's brushing against her slightly more than she usually would have done, smirking when she heard the brunette's breath hitch at the contact, mouth close to her ear.

As both girls left the room and headed back upstairs, neither noticed Maribel Lopez staring after them, shaking her head in wry affection at the pair of them.

x-x-x

"You ready?" Quinn asked the brunette beside her as they stood on Puck's doorstep. Quinn's hand was raised, ready to knock, waiting for Santana's affirmation that that wasn't a terrible idea. It was quarter to eleven (Santana had been predictably late getting ready, which Quinn had teased her about the entire way over), and the blonde was feeling a little nervous. After all, she hadn't seen half the people that would be inside this building since graduation, and that felt like years ago.

"If I wasn't I wouldn't be here," the brunette replied, but Quinn could see the slight trepidation hidden in her eyes she didn't reply with something equally as sarcastic and instead just knocked. A few minutes later the door was thrown open by Puck, who looked like he'd already had a few beers too many.

"Quinn! Santana!" He slurred, lurching forward to pull them both into a hug. He released the brunette first but kept ahold of Quinn for a few moments longer, hand sliding treacherously low on her back, almost falling to her ass – until Santana shoved him bodily backwards, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Keep your hands to yourself, idiot," she muttered, voice laced with a slightly dangerous edge that made Quinn hide a smile. Maybe she shouldn't enjoy Santana's jealously as much as she did – but she found that she didn't care about that so much right now.

"Remind me again why I invited you if all you're going to do is insult me all evening?"

"Because you're a masochist?" Puck merely shook his head, grinning, and stepped aside to let them in – Santana putting herself deliberately between him and the blonde and shooting him one last warning look before looping her arm through Quinn's, both of them following the music into the large back room that was the starting point for every one of Puck's parties.

It was already in full swing, the music pounding loudly, a table shoved against one wall littered with a great many drinks already, and a keg was situated in one corner. People were dancing in the centre of the room, and every seat was taken, with even more people standing around the edges of the room.

"It seems we're late," Quinn murmured to the brunette, leaning close to her in order to be heard over whatever shitty song was currently playing. Santana merely hummed in response, eyes scanning the room rapidly, and Quinn knew what she was looking for – she forced herself not to care, but it still stung, much worse than she'd originally thought it would. "They're not here."

Her voice came out harsher than she intended and the brunette turned slightly so that there were facing, one eyebrow quirking upwards in interest. Quinn looked pointedly away, eyes landing on Rachel and Finn, who were huddling in one corner of the room, heads close together – she looked away and found Blaine and Kurt.

In fact, she realised as she did her own scan of the room, pretty much everyone here was sat in couples, and there were several people who seemed to be attached at the mouth – and then there was her and Santana.

Wonderful.

"Quinn!" The blonde recognised the voice from her last fateful visit to Lima, and she turned away from Santana to see Kitty, grinning up at her. "Hey! I didn't realise you were coming. You look great, by the way."

"Thanks, you too." Actually, she didn't – she looked kind of slutty, but Quinn remembered what it was like to feel the need to dress like that to fit in, so she agreed anyway. She herself had decided to go for a slightly more demure look than she'd usually wear to one of these parties, but her dress, a vivid purple, while not showing much skin, was tight, hugging every inch of her body, highlighting every curve.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Sure." Santana was still looking for Brittany, and while Quinn knew that it was none of her business and that she had no right, it still made her blood boil. So she left the brunette and followed Kitty into the kitchen, accepting the cup that the younger blonde handed her. "Do I even want to know what's in this?"

"Probably not." But she drank it anyway, because it didn't taste so bad. She could practically smell the fumes of alcohol coming off of it, though, so vowed not to drink _too _much of it – she seemed to be doing all sorts of stupid shit when she was drunk lately, after all, and this was hardly the place for them.

They returned back to the other room – just in time for Quinn to notice Brittany and Sam appearing through the door she and Santana had entered from, brushing right past the brunette, giggling and holding hands.

She saw the spasm of pain that flashed across Santana's face, before it was replaced with a smile that screamed fake as Brittany noticed she was there and pulled her into a hug. Quinn watched Santana's hands falter, as she raised them automatically before letting them fall back own to her sides.

Brittany pulled back, said something to the brunette, who just smiled sadly and shook her head, before replying and then turning and leaving the room – Quinn saw the look of confusion on Brittany's face before she merely shrugged and returned to Sam's side, greeting him with a kiss.

"Excuse me," the blonde muttered hastily to Kitty, only just realising that the other girl had probably been talking to her only to be completely ignored, before deciding that she didn't really care.

She disappeared back through the kitchen before turning down the hall, thankful for the first time that she'd lived here, even only briefly – because at least she knew the layout of the house. There were a few places were Santana was likely to be, and upstairs was her destination.

The first door she tried opened to a couple that she didn't recognise, half-naked on Puck's bed. And she turned away hastily to try the next. That was empty, and she let out a sigh of relief when she found Santana in the next door, standing in the middle of the guest bedroom, staring out of the window.

"I didn't ask you to come find me."

"You didn't tell me not to, either."

"Well I would have, had you not flounced off with the first person that recognised you. I never realised that you were still so shallow." Quinn didn't flinch, even though she knew the brunette's intention had been to hurt her – a deflection from whatever she was currently feeling.

"Well excuse me if I didn't want to watch you pine over your ex all night." Santana whirled around and took a step towards the blonde, eyes wild, and Quinn saw a single teartrack running down her left cheek. She ached to brush it away, but something told her that that wouldn't be such a good idea right now, with the way the brunette was looking at her.

"I wasn't pining over her!"

"Sorry, have I mistaken looking desperately around the room for her as something else? Cause I thought that was pining. My mistake."

"Shut the fuck up, Quinn – you don't know me."

"Yeah, you've said that before. It seems like one of your favourite things to remind me when I actually hit close to home." The brunette took another step forward, eyes flashing, but Quinn didn't back down.

She never did.

"That's a load of bullshit."

"Oh? So you're not still in love with her? Because really Santana, you could at least _try _to hide it." She knew she was being cruel, knew she should stop, but she couldn't help it – a part of her hated Santana in that moment, for hurting her so much already, for kissing her all those days ago when she could have never meant anything by it.

"I don't _want _to be!" It was practically a scream, and that time, Quinn actually did flinch at the raw pain that lined Santana's face, her every word. "I don't want to feel _anything_." Stunned, the blonde didn't know what to say – her mouth opened, but words refused to come.

"What, _now _you're suddenly quiet? Jesus fucking Christ, Q. Thanks for all your help. Really." The brunette's voice was heavy with sarcasm, and it snapped the blonde out of her temporary freeze.

"For fuck's sake, Santana, what do you want me to do? You say you don't want me here but now you're pissed that I'm not comforting you? _What the hell do you want from me?!_" Her voice rose, unbidden, and she was breathing heavily by the time she'd finished, glaring with resentment at the woman across from her, the one woman that drove her absolutely insane and the one woman that she knew she'd be lost without.

She didn't know how they went from being a few metres apart to kissing, Santana's mouth hard and hot on hers, hungry, trying to devour her. She wished that her body didn't react the way that it did to that kiss – wished that her knees didn't go weak, that her hands didn't immediately grab for the brunette's waist, wished most of all that it didn't spend a spike of desire between her legs, her panties growing damper the longer they were pressed together.

Infuriated that Santana was controlling their kiss like she did everything else she spun them and slammed the brunette back against the door, hands digging hard into her hips as her tongue claimed the brunette's mouth.

She ripped her mouth away from Santana's and trailed it down her neck, revelling in the soft, breathy moan that left swollen lips when Quinn's teeth brushed against the brunette's pulse point. Without warning she bit down hard, sucking the skin into her mouth, hard enough to leave a mark – staking a claim, even if Santana didn't want to be.

Hands tangled in her hair and pulled her mouth back up roughly, pressing their lips together once more. This time, when they broke apart, their foreheads rested against one another, and they were both breathing heavily.

"You are so _infuriating_," Santana breathed, breath ghosting across the blonde's lips, and Quinn had to laugh at that.

"_I _am? Have you seen yourself lately?"

"_God_, why does this keep happening?" Quinn shook her head, because she didn't know – the only thing she knew was that she really didn't mind kissing Santana. But that was in the moment, and it always hurt afterwards – but she was mostly sure that it was worth it, in the end.

"I don't know," the blonde spoke eventually, eyes closed, content to just feel Santana under her body. "But I do know that I don't mind it." She opened her eyes to meet Santana's darkened gaze, half afraid that she'd find disgust there, but there was only desire.

"I don't mind, either." Their lips met again, and Quinn allowed the brunette to switch their positions, one of her hand skating down her side and running under her thigh, teasing the toned flesh under her touch, making the blonde whimper against her mouth.

They were interrupted by a loud bang on the door that had them both freezing in terror, Santana quickly sliding the lock shut as the door handle rattled furiously. "Hey!" Puck's voice called through the door. "No sex in my house!"

"Even if you're the one having it?" Santana snarked back, and Quinn bit her lip to stop a laugh escaping her mouth.

"Santana? That you? In that case, then feel free to have sex in my house, but I have to be able to watch."

"Ugh, fuck off, asshole. We're not having sex, unfortunately for you."

"Who are you with?"

"Me," Quinn called through the door, and apparently that must have been an acceptable answer because after a murmur of 'shame', there was the sound of retreating footsteps and they were left alone.

"I guess we'd better get back down there, then, before more people start to notice we're gone." There was a note of regret to Santana's voice that made Quinn smile, and she pressed one last, quick kiss to that addictive mouth before sliding the lock back open.

"Oh, um, you might want to check your neck in the mirror before you go back down…" The blonde murmured, sheepishly, catching sight of the bruise that was starting to form on the side of the brunette's neck, where shoulder and neck met.

"Quinn!" She cried, outraged as she caught sight of the mark in the mirror that lined one of the walls. "What the fuck?"

"You didn't seem to mind much at the time," Quinn pointed out, smirking, ignoring the look of annoyance in Santana's eyes.

"Ugh, I look cheap, now. Thank you very much."

"So the one you left on me made me look cheap?"

"No, that was hot because _I _was the one that left it." Quinn rolled her eyes as the brunette continued to study the mark in the mirror. "Puck knows we were in here together - he's going to know you gave me this."

"Oh, please, no he won't. There's no way in hell that Puck thinks we'd ever sleep together – aside from in his dreams, of course. If anyone asks just say you got it before you came back home."

"Do not," Santana uttered, turning around and pinning Quinn back against the door, tone low and sultry, eyes dark and dangerous – Quinn could just sink into those eyes and never surface, she was sure. "Ever bite me again."

"Ever?"

"Ever." Santana backed her words up with a quick bite to Quinn's bottom lip that made her think that the punishment for biting the brunette might just be worth the crime, as she was pulled away from the door enough for Santana to prop it open, leading the blonde back downstairs.

It was even more crowded than before, if that was even possible, the room heaving with people. Few of their old glee clubbers were in the room where they'd left them, but venturing into the basement found them, all sitting in a circle.

"Quinn! Santana!" Was echoed by about six different people as they rose to greet the pair, and Quinn was pulled into a group hug by them all, so tight that she could scarcely breathe.

"We were just playing truth or dare," Puck called form where he was lounging on the floor, legs stretched out before him. "Come join in." Biting her lip in apprehension, she caught Santana's eye before joining the circle, ending up wedged in-between Mercedes and Rachel, with the brunette bombshell opposite her. "Quinn, seeing as you've only just joined us, you can have a turn. Truth or dare?"

"Truth," she answered immediately, not wanting to know what kind of dare Puck could come up with.

"Was I, or was I not, the best sex you've ever had?" He smirked, and she rolled her eyes, knowing that he assumed that he was the only person she'd ever slept with, so would have to answer yes by default. But oh, how wrong he was – Puck had nothing on Santana. Not even close.

"You were not." He shot her a disbelieving look, as did a few other people in the room. "Sorry to burst that bubble."

"Who was then?"

"None of your business." But internally she was thinking _oh shit, now I need to do a dare so he can't ask me who the best was_. Santana, opposite her, tried (and failed, in Quinn's opinion), to not look smug.

Puck didn't look happy to be denied, but Quinn was quickly forgotten as other questions were asked. When he rounded back on her again, she bit her lip before realising that with the way things had fallen, it would be Santana asking her.

"Quinn – truth or dare?" The brunette's smile glittered, and Quinn gulped, suddenly terrified that Santana was going to do something that the blonde would really rather she didn't. Then again, she had a feeling the brunette didn't want to expose whatever the hell was going on between them – so there was that.

"Truth," she answered after a few seconds of deliberation.

"In this room," she started, and Quinn swore internally, knowing that the brunette was going to make her squirm. "Who do you think would be the best in bed?"

"Honestly?" The blonde ventured after trying to look like she was thinking _really _hard. "Probably you. You certainly couldn't be any worse than Puck."

"Hey!" He called, offended, but Quinn's eyes were locked on the brunette's, matching the Santana's soft smile.

The door to the basement was thrown open, disrupting the game for a few brief seconds as Brittany and Sam ventured down. Santana's expression didn't change, but Quinn knew better than to be fooled by that.

"Hey guys! What are you doing?"

"Um, truth or dare," Rachel answered, eyes darting from Santana and to the couple who had now come fully down the stairs to stand just outside of the circle, hands still clasped.

"Oh! Can we play? Pretty please?"

"Sure. Sit." Puck murmured after a few more seconds of silence, shuffling over a little to make room for them. Sam's hand immediately landed on Brittany's upper thigh as the blonde leant into him. Santana watched, eyes narrowing just slightly, before she ripped her gaze away, eyes landing on the floor. "Truth or dare, Britt?"

"Truth."

"Best sex you've ever had?" Puck asked, and Santana's head shot up to glare at him – there was a cocky smirk on his face, and Quinn cursed him, because he truly was more of an idiot than she had ever really realised. She knew he was doing it on purpose just to rile Santana up, and from the way to brunette's fingers were digging into the soft carpet they were sat on, it was working.

"Oh, that's easy! It was last night, because we decided to use handcuffs for the first time and - "

"Whoa, Britt, you answered the question, let's not divulge too much about our sex life, yeah?" Sam cut the blonde off with a wary look in Santana's direction, but the brunette was looking pointedly away, eyes fixed on the wall behind Quinn, but the blonde was sure she could see the glitter of tears in those dark eyes.

"Sorry," Brittany murmured, but she was smiling, and Quinn couldn't even find it in herself to be mad at the other blonde, because she was a hundred percent sure that Brittany wasn't even aware of how this would be affecting her ex-girlfriend.

"Santana, truth or dare?" Kurt's voice was soft as he tried to draw the brunette's attention to something else – she shook her head before turning to face him, but the movement caused her hair to fall away from her shoulder, revealing the now purpling mark on her neck.

"Truth."

"Who gave you that hickey?" Quinn's heart stopped at the question, but she forced herself not to react – she couldn't, not now. Santana, to her credit, managed to look unfazed by the question and merely shrugged.

"Just this girl I've been hooking up with." The casual way the brunette said the words sent another spike of pain through her chest, but again, she forced herself not to show it. She could feel it later; for now, she just had to concentrate on not letting anything slip.

The game didn't last for long after that, mainly because there was an unspoken tension in the room emanating from Santana, that only increased with every glance, touch or kiss that Brittany and Sam shared.

Eventually they all dispersed, but Santana's hand shot out to seize Sam's wrist as he made to follow the others up to the floor above, after separating himself from Brittany for the first time that evening.

The few that remained in the room now – Quinn, Kurt, Blaine and Rachel – all held their breath, waiting for the explosion from the brunette, but it never came. She just met Sam's gaze, expression weary, as though all the fight had gone out of her.

"If you ever hurt her," she warned, voice fierce but expression mild. "In any way, shape or form – I will fucking kill you. Okay?"

"I won't. I… I love her." Santana flinched, dropping his wrist as though it suddenly burned, turning away with a simple nod and walking over to one corner of the room. Sam left hurriedly, and Quinn crossed the short space to the brunette's, running one hand gently down her back to signal that she was there – Santana spun around and wrapped her arms around the blonde's neck, pressing her face into Quinn's neck as her body shook from sobs, and Quinn's heart broke, arms wrapping tightly around the brunette's waist and pulling her close.

"I'm sorry," Santana murmured into her neck through her tears, and Quinn had no idea what she was apologising for – whether it was for crying; for crying over Brittany _on _Quinn; or for something else entirely.

"I know," she whispered instead, because that seemed like the only acceptable answer. "It's okay." She knew that the others were still there, watching them closely, but she didn't care – she only cared that Santana felt better.

After a few minutes she stopped crying and pulled back, wiping hastily at her eyes with the back of her hand. "What the fuck are you losers looking at?" She spat at the other three, but none of them moved, and Quinn was pretty sure that that was a bad move on their part.

"Do you wanna go home?" The blonde asked, concern for her friend outshining anything else she felt in that moment.

"No. I wanna fucking _dance_. Let's go."


	7. Chapter 7

Santana Lopez was very, very drunk. Quinn could tell that from the way that the brunette was all over her – something that she would never do normally, and would _definitely _never do in a room full of their old friends, which also contained her ex-girlfriend.

Quinn herself hadn't been drinking, aside from her first cup of that awful punch when she'd arrived, because she was aware that she turned into a horny mess when she was drunk, and going there with Santana right now was probably a _really _bad idea.

"You're really hot, Q," Santana whispered into her ear, slurring her words slightly, and usually the blonde would have rolled her eyes – had it not been for the fact that, just three nights ago, those very words were being spoken to her in the midst of frantic breathing and deliberate touches. Now, they sent a spike of heat through her whole body, instead of being a flattering compliment that she could simply shrug off.

"That's nice, S," the blonde replied, even though she didn't really have to – there was no way that the brunette would remember any of this in the morning, after all, with the amount of alcohol she'd consumed.

"No, but like, _really, really _hot." Hands slid, deliberately, down her sides and to her hips, the brunette's fingers burrowing into the curve of her pelvis expertly, and she just barely supressed a moan at the feeling.

Swiftly, she detached herself from the brunette and took a step back, putting some space in-between them. Dark, curious eyes watched her every move, and she shivered under the heat of Santana's gaze, wishing it didn't effect like it did.

"I'm going to get a drink," she called over the sound of the music. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do while I'm gone." Santana merely smirked at that, and Quinn left her, albeit a little reluctantly, to head to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water – at least she knew that that, for sure, wouldn't have been spiked.

Suddenly feeling stifled by the heat of the house and the amount of people milling about, she cracked open the door in the kitchen that led out into the backyard and slid through the tiny gap, closing it behind her.

There was a swing to the left hand-side, opposite from the pool that she'd spent countless summer days in – Puck's pool parties had always been the best. But that felt like an eon ago, another time entirely, a world away from where she was now.

The yard was empty save for her, and she sank gratefully down onto the swing, wrapping her arms around the chains and swinging lightly, her feet dragging along the scoured soil beneath her. She welcomed the alone time, the chance to clear her head, and tilted her face upwards to gaze at the stars, something she'd been fascinated by from a young age.

"I thought you'd be out here." It was Brittany's voice, calling through the darkness, and Quinn turned to face the other blonde, who had just come outside and had her arms wrapped around her upper torso in an attempt to keep warm. Quinn had barely noticed the chill in the air.

"What's up, Britt?"

"You're mad at me." It wasn't a question, so Quinn deigned not to answer, instead just watching her blue-eyed former glee clubber idly as she walked closer, leaning against the wooden fence that separated the patio of the yard from the grass, crossing her arms across her chest. "Why? She broke up with _me_."

"I know she did. But you didn't tell her you were dating Sam. She found it through _facebook_, Britt. She turned up outside my dorm room at two o' clock in the morning after an eleven hour drive, a sobbing _mess_, because you didn't think to tell her you were together. I'm not mad that you moved on, Britt – I'm happy for you. Sam's a great guy. I just… Santana deserves more than to find out the girl she's in love with is dating someone else through a social networking site. That's all."

"That was a lot of words," Brittany murmured, moving to perch on the edge of the swing next to Quinn's, her expression unusually serious. "And Santana's not in love with me. Not anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous," Quinn scoffed, ignoring Brittany's dramatic eye roll. "If she didn't love you then she wouldn't care about you and Sam, but she clearly does."

"That's not true. You can be over someone but have it bother you to see them with someone else. I know that because I'm not in love with Santana anymore, but it still bothered me to see the two of you together tonight." Quinn froze at the other blonde's words, trying to school her face into an expression of mild surprise instead of horror.

"What?"

"I've seen the two of you. You act differently around each other; it's not the same. And I don't know what changed but something did. Something's different, and I think it might be because something happened between the two of you."

"That's stupid," Quinn muttered, but she avoided the blue eyes that desperately sought contact with hazel, and resolutely looked away until she heard Brittany sigh and stand up to leave without another word – the only sign that she'd even been there at all the creaking of the swing after she'd left.

She couldn't say how long she'd been out there, thinking, when she heard the backdoor open once more. She didn't turn around to see who it was; instead she continued to focus on the stars, wondering at how something so untouchable could be so beautiful.

Almost like Santana.

She knew it was the brunette who'd come to find her without having to look – she could tell by the scent of the perfume the brunette always wore washing over her as Santana took the seat that Brittany had vacated not that long ago.

"You okay, Q?" The blonde glanced at Santana, finally, noting that she looked a little less drunk than she had when she'd left her. She hoped she hadn't been too long - it was too easy to lose track of time.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" She replied, playing idly with a strand of her hair as she watched the brunette closely. Santana merely shrugged, before shivering as cold blast of wind buffeted them. "I'm fine."

"Then why are you out here on your own?"

"I'm surprised you even noticed that I was gone."

"You're always the first thing that I notice." It was spoken with such open honesty that she paused, tilting her head to the side as she watched the brunette carefully – maybe she was still completely wasted, after all.

"I find that hard to believe," Quinn murmured in reply, eventually, breaking the silence between them. Santana's lips quirked up in a half smile, and she shook her head slightly, expression wry.

"That's because you're an idiot," she sighed, and then it was Quinn's turn to shake her head. "No, seriously, Quinn." That had the blonde's attention – Santana rarely used her full name, unless she was feeling particularly serious. "You don't see yourself the way others do. But you're…"

Santana trailed off, face scrunched up a little in thought as she tried to find the right word, and Quinn tried very hard not to focus on the fact that the brunette looked absolutely gorgeous right now.

"You're mesmerising." Her eyes lifted to meet Santana's, losing herself in those seductive brown orbs, swirling with an emotion that she couldn't identify. One of the brunette's hands moved to rest on her thigh, and she leant forward so that there was barely a breath of space in-between them.

"How is it," Quinn breathed, trying not to let the fact that Santana's lips were mere inches from her own affect her. "That we always end up in situations like this?"

"Because we're drawn to each other – we always have been. Why fight it now?"

"Because we shouldn't be doing this." But she didn't protest as Santana moved further forward, their lips just barely touching. She could smell the alcohol on the brunette's breath, wondered absently if this would be happening, again, if Santana was sober, before deciding that she didn't care.

"I'm tired of trying to do the right thing." The words were a breath against her lips, before the brunette's mouth was pressed against her own, her lips soft but insistent, her tongue pushing past the blonde's lips and into her mouth effortlessly, and a low moan rose at the back of Quinn's throat as the hand on her thigh moved higher, Santana's nails dragging over her skin hard enough to leave a mark.

It was softer than the last kiss they'd shared, back in the bedroom, but it lacked none of the building passion, the heat – that, it seemed, was always there, in abundance, whenever they were together like this. Quinn never felt as alive as she did when they were kissing, never felt as wonderful as when Santana's lips were devouring her, drinking her in, her hands mapping every inch of her body with a delicacy that she had never thought the brunette could possess.

She twisted the fingers of her right hand through thick, dark locks as their kissing increased in intensity, needing to be closer, somehow, to the girl who had once been her best friend, and who could now be her everything – a terrifying thought, but still the truth, no matter how much she tried to deny it.

The banging of the backdoor as it was thrown open broke the spell they'd found themselves in and they leapt apart, Santana scrambling to her feet, shooting a fervent look over Quinn's shoulder to glare at whoever had interrupted them.

The blonde didn't dare turn around, she was too busy chastising herself for ending up in exactly the same situation that she'd sworn to herself could never happen again. Santana glanced back down to her, her expression once again unreadable, and Quinn heard footsteps approaching from behind her.

She turned, finally, to see Mercedes standing a few feet away, watching them curiously, but Quinn knew her well enough to see that there was concern there, too. "I'll see you back inside, Q," Santana murmured after a few seconds of silence, and Quinn merely nodded, unsurprised when Mercedes sat on the swing beside her almost as soon as Santana had left.

"Did I just see what I think I saw?" She asked immediately, and Quinn half wanted to spit insults at the other girl until she left her alone, but she couldn't bring herself to do it – Mercedes had been there for her at the lowest point in her life, had helped pick her up when she'd been so low that she'd thought it would be impossible to feel happiness again.

So, instead of putting on her HBIC persona, she sighed, deeply, tiredly, and lifted her eyes to meet the concerned gaze of Mercedes Jones. "If what you think you saw was Santana and I attached at the mouth, then yeah. You did."

"Wanna talk about it?" Quinn had to give Mercedes credit – she didn't flinch at the blonde's words. She considered the question carefully before answering.

"I guess. Except I don't even understand it myself, so don't think I'd do a good job at explaining."

"I'm going to assume that means this isn't the first time this has happened."

"I wish." Her tone carried a note of bitterness that she was surprised by, and she sighed again. "Everyone's told me to stay the hell away from her, that she'll wreck me. Are you going to say the same?"

"Who's everyone?"

"Well, everyone is two people. One being my friend back at Yale, and the other being Santana's mother."

"Girl, you don't let anyone else tell you what to do, ever. Why's that changed now?"

"Because what if they're right? What if she does?" There was a tremulous note to her voice that she despised, and she saw Mercedes' eyes flash with pity that would have made her shut down if she hadn't felt as pathetic as she did already.

"I think you could both wreck each other. But I also think that because of that, there's a chance for something amazing. You just have to dig through a lot of crap to get there – especially when it comes to Santana. Especially after Brittany."

"Do you think she's still in love with her?"

"After what I just saw out here? I don't know. But I'll tell you this – it sure as hell looked like Brittany was the farthest thing from her mind when she was with you." Quinn let that sink in, turning the words over in her mind. "You coming back inside? You look cold."

"Okay," she agreed, falling into step beside Mercedes as they walked back to the door. "Thanks, by the way. And not that I think you would, but could you please keep - "

"Quiet about the fact that you and Santana want to rip each other's clothes off?" Quinn blushed, but the other girl merely grinned. "I won't tell a soul, I promise, Quinn. And if you ever need to talk over anything else, I'm here for you."

"I know. Thank you." She gave Mercedes a quick hug before they went back inside, the warmth of the house sinking into her, and she let out a grateful sigh as she left Mercedes to wander out of the kitchen, trying to find Santana.

The brunette was back down in the basement for the next round of games, and Quinn faltered at the top of the stairs, watching as she spoke to Brittany. The blonde had lost Sam somewhere, and they were sat beside each other, talking freely. There was still a slight glimmer of pain on the brunette's face, but there was no trace of it as she laughed at something Brittany said.

"You going down?" She turned to see Sam stood behind her, leaning against the doorway with a beer in one hand.

"I don't know. You?"

"I will in a minute. I wouldn't want to interrupt." He inclined his head to where his girlfriend and Santana were still laughing, his expression guarded.

"Are you worried about them?" Quinn asked, a slight note of disbelief in her voice. It was painfully obvious that Brittany was all over Sam now – she doubted she even thought much about Santana anymore, judging from the fact that she'd forgotten to tell the brunette about her new boyfriend.

"I don't know," he shrugged, taking a long swig from the bottle in his hand. "I mean, they were together for a while. And Santana's pretty intimidating. And also hot."

"Britt's crazy about you. Anyone can see that."

"I guess. How's Yale, anyway?"

"It's okay."

"Don't sound too enthusiastic." She grinned, beginning to enjoy herself for what felt like the first time at this party (aside from when she'd been kissing Santana, but that wasn't supposed to happen so that didn't count).

"Watch yourself there, Trouty Mouth. You have a girlfriend." Santana materialised behind them, then, moving to stand closer to Quinn than would normally be socially acceptable. Sam raised one of his eyebrows, glancing down as one of Santana's arms slid possessively around Quinn's waist.

"I know I do," Sam said, amused. "You were just talking to her and looking mighty cosy."

"I could say the same about you two." Santana's mouth was a hard line, and it infuriated Quinn. Her eyes met Sam's, and he seemed to see the intent on her face because he nodded and without another word turned to head down the steps.

"What the _fuck _are you doing?" Quinn hissed, voice low as she whirled away from Santana's touch, eyes narrowing to glare as they faced one another.

"What do you mean?" The brunette's eyes narrowed into a frown, confused, and Quinn's teeth ground in frustration.

"What is your _problem_?"

"My _problem _is idiots who hit on people when they're already spoken for!"

"He _wasn't -_" Quinn cut herself off, all too aware how loud, wild, her tone was getting, and forced her voice back down to a furious whisper. "He wasn't hitting on me. And even if he was, it's none of your damn business!"

"Yes it _is_!"

"Is this really about Brittany, Santana? Or can you just not _stand _me talking to anyone else but you?" Her voice was cold, hard, and the brunette's eyes widened, mouth dropping open slightly as she took in the blonde's words.

"Um, girls?" They both whipped around to see Kurt standing at the bottom of the stairs, glancing up at them with open curiosity. "Are you gonna come down and play?"

"No. I think I'm going to head home, actually – it was great seeing you all again." Quinn forced a smile, even though she was still furious, before turning to leave without another word.

"Q, wait - " Santana's hand grabbed for her wrist, hot on her skin, but she yanked her arm out of the brunette's grip.

She was outside by the time Santana caught up with her, running in-front of her to stop her path, and Quinn came to a halt, hands curling into fists as she took a step backwards, needing some space between them.

"Look, I'm sorry. Please don't leave." It was rare enough for Santana to ever say please, but rarer still was the look of open pleading written across her face; clear to see in her eyes. Quinn bit her lip, wishing she wasn't so affected by _everything _this woman ever did.

"Why not? I'm not having any fun here, and you clearly aren't, either. Why do you want to stay?"

"I… I don't know. But don't leave me here with them on my own, Q. I didn't think even you were that heartless."

"Why don't you just leave with me?"

"Is that really such a good idea?" Santana's tone was infused with a suggestive note that made her shiver, but thankfully it could be mistaken for being cold due to the temperature outside.

"I can control myself perfectly well, thank you. But can you?" The challenge glittered in her eyes at they met Santana's, a smirk pulling at her lips. Santana didn't answer for a beat, but then stepped forward until they were pressed together, chests touching.

"We'll just see about that, Q," she breathed, lips brushing against Quinn's with every word, and just the sheer fact that the brunette would do this, out in the open where anyone could see them, set her alight – both because it was startlingly erotic and also because of the nerve she had to do it so publicly. "Coming?"

The brunette turned and spoke over her shoulder, walking away and putting a deliberate saunter into her step that made it impossible for the blonde's eyes not notice how the skin-tight dress Santana was wearing perfectly accentuated that wonderful ass.

Snapping her gaze away when the brunette turned back with a quirked eyebrow, smirk on her face that Quinn longed to wipe away, preferably with a kiss, she started to follow behind Santana, catching up with her easily.

It was barely a five minute walk back to Santana's place, but they made it in half that time, hurrying, even in heels, in the hope to ward of the chill in the air. By the time they made it back they were both shivering, and Quinn was regretting the decision to not put on a coat before they left.

It was earlier than she'd thought they'd get back, barely even half two – usually they were out well until the early hours of the morning, and once she'd arrived home at five o' clock, much to her mother's disapproval.

But that felt like a lifetime ago, and, she supposed, as she followed Santana quietly up the stairs and into her bedroom, technically it was. That had been in junior year, and she didn't think it was possible for her to feel any different from the girl she'd been back then than she did currently.

"Have you got stuff to sleep in?" Santana's voice brought her out of her head, and she shook her head, turning slightly to face the brunette so she could see her reaction to her next words.

"I thought I'd just sleep naked…"

"Oh really? Go on, then." She hadn't expected Santana to rise to the challenge, but couldn't say she was disappointed that she had. Smirking, she turned fully around to face the other woman and gripped the bottom of her dress with both hands, tugging it over her head in one smooth movement, leaving her in her matching black underwear.

Santana's eyes watched her hungrily, raking down her figure with a heat in her gaze, eyes lingering at the bruises that covered her body, left by the bite of the brunette's teeth on her skin.

"You're not naked yet," Santana pointed out when the blonde paused, voice a little hoarse, raising an eyebrow. So Quinn shrugged and reached behind her back to reach for the clasp of her bra, opening it easily and letting it fall from her shoulders. Santana licked her lips, eyes flicking down to the blonde's chest before meeting her eyes again – unmistakably a shade darker.

"Really want me to carry on?" Quinn murmured, voice low, and for a second she thought Santana was going to agree, swore that the brunette was ready to nod for her to continue, but then she shook her head, turning to one side and then throwing one of her t-shirts towards the blonde without looking.

Quinn smirked, glad that she'd won this round, at least, and tugged the shirt over her head, leaving her panties on as she wandered over to the bathroom, deliberately not looking towards where Santana stood.

When she emerged from the bathroom of a few moments later, Santana was leaning against her desk, wearing shorts that were tiny enough that they may as well have been underwear, and a skin-tight shirt the same as Quinn's, made of clingy material that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

The blonde slid under the heavy covers of the brunette's bed as Santana turned for the bathroom, and Quinn rolled to one side, checking her phone while she waited for the brunette to come back. She had a couple of messages from her Mom, wondering when she was going to come back home – she typed out a hasty response saying that she was still alive, but that she didn't know when she'd be back, and then turned the phone off, just as the bathroom door creaked open.

"Sobered up yet?" Quinn called across the room as Santana re-appeared, running a brush through her hair. The brunette deigned not to answer, and instead just set the brush down and hopped into bed beside her. "What, just because you dared me to take all of my clothes off and I actually did it, I get the silent treatment?"

"Don't push it, Q." The Latina's voice was soft, laced with exhaustion, and breathed into the back of Quinn's neck. The blonde rolled over so they were facing, a few inches between them. Santana's eyes were open, watching her.

"Why? Afraid of what'll happen?"

"I can handle you, Q, don't you worry – I think I've already proved that, don't you?"

"Mm, I guess."

"You _guess_?!" Santana's voice was outraged, and Quinn smirked once more, before her expression changed to one of shock as Santana rolled them over, legs straddling the blonde's hips and strong arms pinning Quinn's wrists above her head. "Take that back."

It was a breath against her lips, and she was lost to the heat of Santana all around her, pressing her down. "Never."

"Then I'll just have to prove it again, won't I?" Before she had time to protest, Santana's mouth was against hers again – she'd lost count of how often they'd kissed that night, and frankly, she didn't care, because it felt too amazing.

She bit back a moan, knowing that that was exactly what Santana wanted – a sign of approval, that she'd won, and Quinn wasn't ready to give up control, not this soon. With a frustrated growl against the blonde's lips, her mouth moved down the slope of the blonde's neck, nipping at the skin as she moved lower.

Santana moved the blonde's wrists into one hand, and used the other to palm her breasts roughly – Quinn bit down, hard, on her bottom lip to stop a gasp escaping, and tasted blood when Santana yanked her shirt down in order to lave her tongue across a nipple, teeth grazing across her skin.

"Admit defeat, Q," Santana breathed, moving back up to press another rough kiss to swollen lips, even as the blonde struggled underneath the vice-like grip the brunette had on her hands, desperate to overturn her, but completely powerless. "Just admit it." She tugged at Quinn's earlobe with her teeth before pulling away, breathing heavily.

Taking advantage of the brunette's momentary pause, Quinn bucked upwards suddenly, rolling them over so that she hovered above Santana, _her _hands pinning the brunette down, now, claiming her lips forcefully, her need shining through in the desperate way she kissed her.

She was on her back again without even realising, Santana tearing her mouth away and leaning backwards, still keeping the blonde's hands pinned down. She ran a single finger down the blonde's chest, through the valley of her breasts and across her stomach, before sliding her hand under her shorts and pressing two fingers into her sex, so suddenly that her back arched and she couldn't stop the gasp that fell from her lips.

"See," Santana's voice was back in her ear, breathing hard and heavy. "Can anyone else turn you on like this, Q? Can anyone else make you feel this good?" Teeth nipped at her neck, an air of possessivity to the motion, as her fingers set up a punishing pace, curling to hit all the right places, thumb circling her clit at the same time. "No-one else can fuck you like I can."

"Shit, _Santana - _" Her voice cut off with a moan, as her hips bucked against the brunette's hand, straining against the hold she had on her wrists, desperate to grab hold of _anything_. The last time they'd been together hadn't felt this good – this was better, impossibly, miraculously, better, and she twisted against the brunette's grip as she came, back arching off the bed and teeth sinking into the brunette's shoulder in order to muffle her cry.

She collapsed back onto the bed, afterwards, sweaty and exhausted, feeling like jelly, and Santana rolled to one side, lazily removing her hand from the blonde's underwear and throwing her arm across Quinn's waist.

"Gonna admit that I'm right, yet?"

"Never."

"Well, then, maybe I'll just have to keep proving it to you."

"I think I might learn to enjoy that."

x-x-x

Quinn woke first the next morning, to Santana curled up against her side, face pressed into the pillow beside the blonde's head, and one tanned arm still lying across her stomach. Her eyes tracked across Santana's face, admiring the way she looked at peace when she was sleeping, framed in the sunlight streaming through the slightly open curtains that lined her window.

She had no idea what time it was, and didn't really care. She had little desire to return home and be belittled by Frannie whilst trying to force conversation with her mother – she'd much rather be here, where she actually felt wanted.

Well. Most of the time, anyway.

She twisted just slightly in order to move from underneath Santana's hold, and walked quickly to the bathroom, not realising how much she'd needed it until she was fully awake. She eyed the shower, feeling in desperate need of one after being stuck in a hot, sweaty house dancing for half of the night, and then getting hot and sweaty in a completely different way when she'd left the party, but she didn't want Santana to wake up and wonder where she'd gone.

Brown eyes were open, though, when she cracked open the bathroom door and walked back out, Santana propped up against the pillows, watching her with an air of curiosity. She paused just before getting back into the double bed, eyes on the brunette's face.

"What?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering if this is the part where you tell me that last night was a mistake and can never happen again." Santana's face was expressionless, but Quinn could see a hint of something in her eyes.

"No." She clambered back up beside Santana, rolling to her side so that they were facing. "I… I meant what I said last night. That I wouldn't mind it happening again." She felt shy, far more than she had done in a very long time – she wasn't used to exposing herself, to doing the chasing. _She _was always the one that had been chased, by every boyfriend that she'd ever had; maybe that was the reason why she found herself so attracted to Santana.

"Why?"

"Do I _really _need to go into that?" She asked pointedly, smiling even as Santana smirked, wickedly, moving suddenly so that she was on-top of Quinn once more. Her hands, free this time, automatically found purchase on the brunette's hips, fingertips drawing patterns across the smooth, silky skin left bare where her top had ridden up.

"Oh, I think you do." Her eyes were smouldering, filled with a heat so strong that it seemed to set her alight, her heart-rate already increasing with just a single glance. She planted her hands on either side of the blonde's head before leaning down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that left her breathless, and Quinn's hands dug into the brunette's thighs, probably hard enough to leave a mark.

They were interrupted before things could go any further by a soft knock at the door, and Santana barely had enough time to roll to one side before the door cracked open and Maribel's face appeared in the gap.

"Sorry to bother you, girls, but Quinn, your mom's downstairs." Though she didn't sound very apologetic, and Quinn was pretty sure that she knew perfectly well what she'd nearly walked in on.

"What? Why?"

"She's worried about you." The blonde ground her teeth, wondering when Judy Fabray had ever before bothered to check up on her after she hadn't come home, and she knew the answer – zero times, and she was pretty sure that the reason now was simply because Frannie was here and she wanted to pretend that their family was still perfect.

"I'm sure she is," she uttered under her breath. "I'll be down in a minute." That seemed a good enough answer for Maribel because she disappeared a moment later, leaving her alone with Santana once more.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to, you know." She was sprawled on her back on the right side of the bed, somehow managing to pull off dishevelled bed-hair and still look like a model.

"I kinda do. Oh well – It's only four days until the holiday's over, and then I can go back to New Haven." She hopped out of the bed with regret, shuffling over to her bag where it lay on the floor and changing back into her clothes from the previous day.

"What about New Year's?" Quinn merely shrugged, because if she was being completely honest the only reason she'd ever liked it was for the party that was thrown every year – and after the previous night she wasn't so sure that it'd be enjoyable this year.

"It'd mean an extra six days at home."

"You can stay here."

"I can't do that, Santana." At the frown that flashed across the brunette's face she quickly back-tracked. "It's not that I don't _want _to, it's just… This town. I hate it here, and besides, I wouldn't want to trouble your mom."

"She's hardly ever here anyway."

"She will be for the next few weeks. Are you really going to miss me that much?" A scowl crossed the Latina's face at that, and Quinn grinned when she got no response. "I'll call you later."

"See ya, Q." With one last glance towards the brunette, who was still lying in bed, eyes on the blonde's face, she hoisted her bag up on her shoulder and turned to leave, wondering how long it was going to be before they saw each other again, and praying that it wouldn't be too long.

She shut the door quietly behind her and paused at the top of the Lopez's stairs, steeling herself before she ventured down to her mother, and possible her doom, considering how she felt whenever she was home – but hey, at least it was only for a few more days.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: All I have to say is: please don't hate me after this chapter (:P) - everything happens for a reason.**

"You're really leaving for New Haven tomorrow?" Mercedes asked from where she sat opposite Quinn in the Lima Bean, her hands clasped around a cup of coffee. Quinn was sipping from a smoothie, surprised at how busy it was, considering the holidays were barely over yet.

It was the twenty-seventh of December, and somehow she'd survived the last few days at home. It hadn't been easy, and she'd wanted to murder Frannie quite a few times, but she'd managed – just about.

"Yep. Thankfully." Judy hadn't been pleased when Quinn had told her that she planned to leave so soon, but nothing was going to stop her. She'd much rather be alone in her dorm room at Yale surrounded by books, then spend another day around her perfect sister as she tried to persuade their mom to give Russell another chance.

"But… Won't you get lonely?"

"I don't know," Quinn shrugged, biting her straw between her teeth as she took a long sip of the fruit smoothie, eyes tracking around the coffee shop, wondering if anyone else she recognised was around. "But I'd rather be back there, I think."

"What about Santana?" The blonde baulked a little at that, unprepared for the question and half-hoping that her friend had forgotten about the conversation they'd had that night under the stars, sat on the swings.

"What do you mean?"

"She's not going back with you?"

"Why would she?"

"You guys aren't a thing, now?" Quinn had to force back a laugh at that, because whatever else was happening between her and Santana currently, becoming a 'thing' was not even a possibility, as far as she was concerned.

"No, not even close."

"You looked pretty close at Puck's. I wasn't the only one who noticed." Seeing the blonde's slightly panicked look, Mercedes hastily continued. "No-one else thought anything of it, Quinn, don't worry, they just commented on it, said it was weird considering you were at each other's throats the last time we were all together."

"That's because she's so damn infuriating," she muttered under her breath, and Mercedes laughed, loudly.

"Girl, you're telling me. I've never met anyone quite like her in my life. Maybe that's why you like her." The raven-haired woman winked at her, and Quinn blushed under her gaze, looking hastily away.

"I don't like her."

"Bullshit. Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you two?"

"Nope." She trusted Mercedes, she did, but there was a part of the girl that would always be a gossip, and Quinn wasn't ready to entrust something as delicate as her fragile and confusing relationship (that wasn't really a relationship), with Santana, on anyone else just yet. "Maybe some day."

"Yeah, it'd better be." Quinn smiled at that, falling back into the old friendship gratefully, glad that not everyone from Lima was lost to her – she'd felt half a stranger at Puck's a few nights ago, and it was nice to know that someone did care, after all.

"So, what's LA like, Miss hotshot singer?"

"It's good, it's good. Difficult, but… It's not like I expected it to be easy. You should come visit me at some point, I think you'd like it."

"I'd like the weather," the blonde replied dryly with a glance outside the windows at the snow that had fallen two days ago and still hadn't properly cleared. It was bitterly cold out, and she knew it would likely be colder when she was back at Yale, but for now, inside, it was warm.

"Yeah, there is that – it's a refreshing change, once you get used to it."

"Hey guys!" An excited voice cut their conversation short, and Quinn turned to see Brittany and Sam walking towards them, hands clasped – it seemed that the couple were inescapable, lately. "Can we join you?"

"Sure," Mercedes said with a ready smile. Sam pulled out the chair beside her, and Brittany the one beside Quinn. "How are you guys?"

"Good! We had a snowball fight, but I lost." Brittany's cheeks were tinged with pink, but she was smiling, and Quinn had to admit that she looked happier than she'd seen her in a long, long while. She studied the other blonde as she chattered excitedly to Mercedes, and caught Sam doing the same, an admiring glint in his eyes – one that she hadn't ever seen when they'd been together.

Maybe they were good for each other, she decided, resting her head on one hand and pretending to listen to the conversation – maybe they were a better match than she'd ever thought, maybe they were better together than Santana and Brittany. Maybe that was never meant to be.

"Quinn," Brittany's voice cut her thoughts short, and she met the blonde's brilliantly blue eyes, filled with excitement. "When are you going to ask Santana out?"

"I… You… _What_?!" She sputtered, unable to form anything more coherent, ignoring Mercedes choked laugh, and the way that Sam bit his lip to hide a smile when he saw the look on her face. "Why would you say that?"

"Because! It's obvious that you want to rip each other's clothes off, maybe you should go on a date, too." Quinn averted her gaze, flush colouring her cheeks, because she knew that there was no way that any of them would think that they'd _already _ripped each other's clothes off, and wasn't about to give them any reason to think otherwise.

"Britt… Santana and I… nothing's going to happen," she said eventually, but she knew even as she spoke them that the words weren't true - they'd started something, that night, opened a can of worms, that she knew wouldn't end anytime soon.

"Hasn't it already happened?" Brittany looked puzzled, her head titling to one side as she studied Quinn, and the blonde shifted uncomfortably under the blue-eyed girls gaze, not liking the way she seemed to almost look _through _her, as though she knew exactly what she was thinking - a habit that Brittany had always possessed, but it had never made her feel quite like this.

"No, and it's not _going _to happen, okay? Just… let it go, Britt." She stood up and left, then, her chair scraping across the floor as she rose, heading for the bathroom because she didn't knew where else to go.

She felt enclosed, all of a sudden, suffocating, walls pressing against her from every side. The last few days away from Santana hadn't gotten her any closer to figuring out where she stood in the brunette's mind, and she hadn't been able to puzzle through her own thoughts, either.

All she knew was that she'd missed seeing the brunette every day terribly; that she definitely wouldn't mind if their clothes ended up on the floor once again when they next found themselves alone; and that the little jump that happened in her chest whenever she received a text from the brunette was definitely not a good thing.

The sound of the bathroom door opening behind her had her head lifting, her eyes locking with Brittany's in the mirror she was stood in-front of. Her hands were splayed across the counter, and her fingers curled when she saw who'd followed her in, just needing to be away from Brittany's innocence, and insistence that she and Santana should be together.

"Brittany," she spoke first, the name a heavy sigh from her lips, but the other blonde didn't move, only stood just inside the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest, watching her. "What do you _want_?"

"I just want you to be happy, Quinn. And Santana, too. I know I hurt her when I started dating Sam, I didn't… I didn't mean to, but she left me. And I know I should have told her, too, but… I didn't want her to be sad sooner than she had to be. I thought I could wait a while, and maybe then, if it'd been longer since we broke up, then maybe it wouldn't hurt her so much."

The admission had her eyes closing, her head shaking, because how could she be mad at _that_? Sure, it wasn't the best approach to things, but she was Brittany, and Brittany didn't always think in the best of ways.

"You know you should be talking to Santana about this, and not me, right?"

"I did talk to her." Her eyes snapped open at that, raising to meet blue, still facing the mirror, shock registering on her face. "I went to her house the day after the party, and then again yesterday."

Jealously curled in her stomach, even though she had no right to be, and she tasted bile at the back of her throat – for Santana hadn't told her, and that meant that something had probably happened that Quinn didn't want to know about.

She looked away again, feeling, inexplicably, the sting of tears in her eyes, because if Santana hadn't told her about meeting up with Brittany, then maybe she wasn't as over the blonde as Quinn had been led to believe.

But she'd been stupid to believe that – and even stupider to think that she'd ever stood a chance. That Santana had ever, _would _ever, want her for anything other than a casual fuck buddy whenever she felt lonely.

"Why do you look like that?" Brittany's voice was soft, solemn, and Quinn noticed with surprise that the other blonde had taken a few hesitant steps towards her, and now stood only a few feet away, eyes filled with concern.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Does it bother you that I was with Santana and you weren't?" Her mouth twisted in annoyance that the other woman knew exactly what her problem was, and looked pointedly away when she saw a flash of what looked to be pity in Brittany's eyes. "Quinn…"

"Leave it, Britt, okay? I don't want to talk about Santana, especially not with _you_, and I don't want to know about whatever happened between you."

"Nothing happened between us. We just talked."

"I don't care."

"You look like you do." She was stood beside Quinn now, but when a hand rested lightly on the small of her back, comfortingly, she flinched away. "Quinn, look - "

"I said I didn't want to talk about it." She brushed past the blonde without another word, knowing that she was being selfish and unnecessarily cruel to her old friend, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

She strode over to where Mercedes and Sam were catching up and snatching up her bag and coat, ignoring the curious looks they both gave her.

"Are you okay?" Mercedes asked after taking one look at her face, but she forced a smile as she nodded, hurriedly shrugging into her coat.

"Fine, but I'm going to head home now – but I'll see you soon, yeah?" The other woman stood up too, pulling the blonde into a quick hug before letting her go.

"Okay," she started, giving her a meaningful look. "If you need to talk about anything, you let me know, okay?"

"I will," she said with another smile, less forced this time. "See you around, Sam." He waved from where he was still sat, and she turned for the door – but not before she locked eyes with Brittany, who was just coming out from the bathroom, and was looking at her with a trace of worry in her eyes.

x-x-x

"Quinn!" Judy Fabray's voice echoed up the stairs and into her room through the open door, left ajar after Hugo had padded inside a few moments earlier. "You have a visitor!"

"I don't want any visitors!" She yelled back down, pausing mid-way through her hasty packing – she really should have started earlier, but things like this she usually left until the last minute.

"Tough shit." Santana's voice came from the doorway, drawling, as she leant against it, hair damp but still managing to look infuriatingly gorgeous. She was wearing jeans that clung to every inch of her skin, and a shirt that was just as tight and had a plunging neckline to go with it.

"What are you doing here?" Was the first thing past her lips, though those weren't the first to come to her mind. She eyed the brunette warily, dropping the clothes she'd been holding into her suitcase and angling her body towards her, noting the deliberate way she stepped into her bedroom and leant on the door to shut it behind her.

"I came to talk to you. You seem to be leaving rather suddenly."

"I told you I was going today," she muttered, turning away, suddenly angry, and seizing the rest of her clothes that were folded neatly on the bed, not caring for order as she shoved them bodily into the bag that sat at the bottom of her bed.

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd leave without saying goodbye."

"How do you know I wasn't going to?"

"A little bird told me that you were pretty upset this morning; that you'd probably change your plans in order to get out of here as quickly as possible. Is that an accurate assumption?" She whirled around, hands clenching into fists at Santana's words, and met her eyes steadily, hoping her expression was as blank as she'd willed it.

"A little bird, huh?" Santana said nothing, merely titled her head to one side, studying the blonde's face with abject scrutiny. "Let me guess. _Brittany._" Her mouth twisted a little around the name, and from the surprised twitch of one of Santana's eyebrows she knew that the brunette had noticed. "I'm so glad you're back on speaking terms with her without telling me."

"I didn't realise that I had to run things by you – is that how you expect things to work now that I've seen you naked? Because if you think that's the case you're going to be sorely disappointed, Q." The casual reference to their time together, as though it had meant nothing, stung, and she spun back around, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath – she would not cry, not here, not now.

Not like this.

"I didn't mean that, Santana. Nothing's going to change, right? Except that it already has." She knew her voice was bitter, knew that she probably wouldn't have dared to speak to honestly had she not had her run-in with Brittany that morning, but it was too late, now – the words where there, in the air, before them, and it was Santana's move now.

"What do you want from me, Q?" Her voice was soft, curious, but still, she didn't turn around. She didn't want to see the expression on Santana's face; didn't want to know before she absolutely had to if this was the end of something that had never truly begun.

"I don't want anything from you." It sounded like a lie, even to her – she never had been the greatest of liars, especially when it came to Santana. It was never easy to hide herself around the brunette.

"_Really_," Santana scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm that had her finally turning back around, eyes filled with fury now, instead of tears, unable to stand being mocked, not by this woman who already held so much power over her.

"Get out, Santana." Her voice was low, laced with her anger, but the brunette didn't move. She only stood taller, crossed her arms, and simply met her gaze steadily, the message clear – _no fucking way_. "I mean it."

"Or what, Q? You gonna throw me out? I don't think you have the power." Quinn's jaw clenched, her teeth ground, but she didn't speak. She didn't know what to say, because Santana had the truth of it – she couldn't really force the brunette to leave, much as she might want her to.

"What did you talk about?" The question rose unbidden to her lips without conscious thought, and she was probably as equally surprised as Santana as the words burst forth. She watched the brunette's expression, saw the tiny frown that creased her eyebrows as she pondered what the blonde's motivations were – or perhaps she was just thinking of a way to answer the question in a way that wouldn't start another fight between them.

"I… Why do you even care?" Quinn didn't answer, merely stared, and after a few minutes of heavy silence, the brunette sighed heavily before decided that answering would probably be the wisest move. "We talked about why we broke up. Why I did it; why she let me. Why, maybe, the time wasn't right. And if… if she was happy with Sam." Santana looked pained at that, so Quinn could hazard a guess to what the answer had been.

"And, what, now you're just the best of friends again?"

"No. I don't know. She came over last night and we hung out… I don't want to lose her, so I'm _trying _to be her friend, but… I don't know _how_." That was perhaps the most honest that Santana had been about her relationship with Brittany, ever, and it shocked Quinn to her core, so much so that she had no idea what to say. "You could say something, Q, I'm trying here."

"Sorry," the blonde muttered, looking away from Santana's intoxicating eyes for the first time for a while, fixing her gaze on the wall to the brunette's left instead, eyes tracing the photographs that hung there, showcasing her past. She liked to look at them sometimes, to remember the person she'd used to be, compare it to the person she'd become, and wonder which, if either, was the better person. "Why didn't you tell me? Want to keep it private?"

"No. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get weird, kind of like you are now. I didn't want you to think that we were getting back together, and I didn't want you to think that I was trying to take her away from Sam – I didn't want you to be mad at me." Vulnerability was written all over the brunette's face, and Quinn's eyes fluttered shut, for just a second, wishing that, just for once, her life could be simple and easy.

"I'm not mad at you, Santana," she sighed, and heard a choked laugh from the brunette opposite her.

"Well, you could've fooled me, Q. Does the idea of Britt and I back together really bother you that much?"

"I just don't want you to get hurt," she murmured quietly, vaguely, and refused to meet the gaze of the woman opposite her. She heard a frustrated sigh from Santana, but didn't have the energy to question what it meant.

"Right, okay. Whatever. Look, it's not going to happen, okay? And if… If us sleeping together is going to make you all weird and shit, then I don't think we should be doing it." Her head snapped up at that, meeting dark eyes, and she bit back the protests that leapt to her lips, choked back the desperation that threatened to claw its way to the surface at the thought of never feeling Santana's body wrapped around her ever again.

"Maybe you're right." Her voice sounded wooden, even to her own ears, but that was about all she could manage at that point, a strange numbness creeping into her chest with every breath she took, blood rushing through her ears.

"Maybe I am." Quinn bit her lip, hard, and looked away, forcing her gaze to the floor, noting with slight disdain that Santana's shoes had carried snow into her room – it lay speckled on her blue carpet, slowly melting with the heat of the room.

"You can go now, if you've said all you wanted to say." She forced herself to speak, though she didn't know where she found the energy to.

"Quinn - "

"Bye, Santana," she interrupted, not knowing if she could stand much more of the sound of the brunette's voice without breaking down. She forced her eyes up to meet brown, saw the fight, if there had ever been any there in the first place, leave Santana as she sighed once more.

"See you around, Q." She turned and left then, and the blonde was in her room with no-one but a sleeping Labrador for company. She stumbled over to the door only to push it shut and then dropped to her knees in-front of it, suddenly finding it extremely difficult to breathe.

It shouldn't hurt so much, she knew – it wasn't like they'd been anything, wasn't like a break up. Except that was what it felt like, as she sat on the floor and felt the first of the tears fall, and curled her legs up to her chest, arms wrapping around her shins protectively.

Maybe it was better this way, she told herself – surely it was better to go through this now, before things ever truly developed, than when she was in too deep. But as she hastily swiped at the tears that lined her cheeks, she thought that maybe she was already in too deep – surely, if she wasn't, then this wouldn't hurt as much as it did.

"I'm such a _fucking _idiot," she hissed, under her breath, because it was perhaps more true now than it had ever been before. Deciding that sitting on the floor moping was never the best plan of action, she forced herself to her feet, on shaky legs, and resumed her packing.

It was only half an hour before she was done, and then she traipsed into the bathroom, washing her face with ice-cold water, getting rid of any remnants of the tears that had fallen previously – she was downstairs with her suitcase five minutes later, waiting impatiently by the front door for her mom to finish putting her shoes on to drive her to the station.

"Are you _sure _you want to leave so soon, Quinn?" She asked as she re-appeared in the hallway, wringing her hands. The blonde repressed an eyeroll, because this wasn't the first, or even the sixth time, that she'd been asked this question since she'd told Judy of her plans, but she'd never before felt such an aching desperation to get out of Lima as she did right then.

"_Yes_, Mom, I'm sure."

"Have you said goodbye to your sister?"

"Bye Frannie!" She shouted over her shoulder, already unlatching the door, knowing she wouldn't get a response and really not caring. It was barely even a ten minute walk to that train station, but Judy had insisted on driving her because of the snow, and looking outside as they drove, Quinn was kind of glad that she wasn't walking.

It was kind of beautiful, where no-one had been outside yet to disturb the soft drifts that had settled over the last couple of days. It wasn't deep enough to cause much trouble on the roads, but it was enough that the ground was covered in a soft white layer.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Her mom asked when they arrived, but the blonde merely shook her head, indulging in a brief two-second hug before she left, hurrying into the slightly warmer station and then down to the colder platform.

She refused to let her mind stray to thoughts of Santana, but with nothing else to do but wait impatiently for the train to arrive, it was pretty difficult. She regretted every single word she'd said, and couldn't help thinking that the entire thing was her fault – which, she supposed, it was. If she hadn't have been so insanely jealous over Brittany, then that conversation probably wouldn't have ever happened.

But then again, perhaps it was better to get things out of the way sooner rather than later. Maybe being just friends was the best course of action for them; maybe they'd never been meant for anything more.

Her eyes caught a glimpse of a slightly hideous sweater out of the corner of her eye and she paused in her thinking, turning because it damn sure looked like something Rachel Berry would have been wearing before her weird New York make-over that left her looking nothing like the girl that Quinn had used to know, and kind of grown to like – and sure enough, it _was_ Rachel, standing by herself just a few feet away.

Quinn was pretty sure she'd be terrible company, but anything would be better than being consumed with thoughts about a girl she was apparently never destined to have, so she approached the brunette hesitantly, noting that she was listening to music and not wanting to scare the life out of her.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked in disbelief when she noticed the blonde, hastily pulling her earphones from her ears and grinning up at her. "Hey!"

"Hi, Rach. How are you?"

"I've had better days, I have to say."

"And does that have something to do with why you're leaving town so early?" She leant against the wall beside the brunette, turning slightly so that they were facing.

"It might. What about you?"

"Same story. Family drama."

"Finn drama." Quinn fought the urge to roll her eyes at the name, because really, if the brunette hadn't realised that she was better than him by now, then she really didn't know what else could happen for her to realise. "Sorry."

"Why?"

"I don't know, you used to date, it's probably insensitive of me to talk about him to you."

"Rach, seriously, we were together what, three years ago? Apart from that minor relapse in junior year when I don't know what was thinking; you can complain about him to me all you like."

"He's just…"

"Oh, I could supply a long list of names, there." The brunette laughed, and Quinn felt a smile tug at her own lips in response, for what felt like the first time that day. Her phone buzzed with a call, and she glanced down to see Brittany's name flashing across the screen – she hesitated for a brief second before she answered. "What, Britt?"

"_I just wanted to see if you were okay, Santana told me what happened."_

"Oh, did she, now? How _much _of what happened did she tell you?"

"_All of it, I think._" Quinn's teeth ground in frustration, her eyes fluttered closed, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. She didn't want any details of whatever was happening with her and Santana being told to anyone else, because she barely understood it herself – she thought that the Latina had understood that, but apparently not.

"She had no right to do that."

"_She just wanted to talk, Quinn, I - "_

"Oh but she can't fucking talk to me, can she? Look, you know what, I meant what I said early, B – I don't want to talk about it, okay? Not with you."

"_But I - " _She hung up the phone then, knowing she was being a straight up bitch but not caring enough to stop being one. She switched her phone off and shoved it back into her pocket, noticing then that Rachel was eyeing her curiously.

"Everything alright?"

"Not in the slightest, but what's new there, right?" A sympathetic smile flashed over the smaller woman's face, and Quinn decided to change the subject before things started to get too personal. "What's with the sweater, anyway? I thought the New Rachel doesn't dress like the old one?"

"It was a present from my dad's – I don't think they're a fan of my new look."

"I can't _imagine _why." A year ago, that would have been taken as a scathing remark, but now her eyes sparkled with mirth, and there was a genuine, rather than a fake, smile on her lips as she regarded the girl who she'd spent so much time actively hating for the better half of her high school life.

"You know, I can't either," Rachel grinned back. Their train pulled up, then, temporarily ending the conversation as they hurried aboard, and Quinn welcomed the warmth inside as she followed the brunette down to two available seats – she had a reservation, and Rachel probably did too, but sitting alone would be a lot less of a distraction.

"So, what did Finn do now?" The blonde asked when they were sat down, twisting in her seat so that she was facing the brunette, who was leaning with her back against the window, legs folded up on the chair, her shoes already kicked off on the floor – Quinn admired the quick way she got herself comfortable.

"Oh, he's just being Finn. He said he didn't want to see me when we last saw each other – which is why I didn't come back for Thanksgiving – and I warned him that I'd be coming to Puck's party because I wanted to see everyone again, and then he wouldn't leave me alone all night and kept trying to make me go upstairs with him."

"Please tell me you didn't."

"God, no, not until we've sorted some of our issues out. And besides, sneaking upstairs at a party? Not the best place to have sex."

"It's really not, trust me," the blonde laughed, even though the memory of _that _night still haunted her sometimes. "So, how's New York? I feel like we haven't caught up in ages."

"I know, I'm so sorry I haven't replied to your e-mails or come to visit – I've been so busy; I feel awful about it."

"It's fine, Rach. College is busy, I get it, believe me."

"You have to come visit soon, though – you could even come in the next couple of weeks, before the next semester starts. Or, oh!" Quinn had almost forgotten how excited the brunette could get sometimes, and fought a grin as she started speaking faster and faster. "You should come back to New York with me now and stay for a few days! Unless," Rachel paused with a meaningful raise of one her eyebrows aimed in the blonde's direction. "There's a particular reason you're so eager to get back to Yale?"

"I can honestly say that the reason for me hurrying back to Yale has fully to do with what I'm leaving behind in Lima."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I told you, family drama."

"Yeah, and what about that conversation with Brittany?" Quinn bit her lip – it'd be good to have someone to talk to about everything, especially after what had happened that afternoon, and Rachel wasn't as big a gossip as Mercedes. But… a crowded train wasn't really the best place for _that _conversation.

"Okay, there _is _something else, but I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

"Does it have something to do with Santana?" The brunette asked after a few seconds of silence, and Quinn's eyes snapped from where they'd been staring out the window, admiring the scenery as it flew by, to lock with eyes the colour of chestnut.

"Why would you say that?"

"Just the way you were at Puck's," Rachel shrugged. "And it makes the most sense for the 'her' you were talking about on the phone with Britt to be Santana."

"Okay," Quinn murmured after another silence, slightly longer this time. "Yeah, it does have something to do with her – but I'm still not ready to talk about it."

"That's fair," was the simple reply. "Now, seriously – do you want to come back to New York with me?"


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **

**I'm glad everyone seemed to enjoy the last chapter, it was probably one of the ones I was most worried about posting, so yay :)**

**Also glad that people are looking forward to more Faberry friendship; Rachel will have a slightly bigger role in this story from now on, so hopefully you'll like that.**

**I have plans to write a chapter from Santana's POV, which a few reviewers wanted - that will be coming up, and I can't wait to write it. Unfortunately, it won't be for a little while yet, I've been writing ahead and haven't gotten around to that one yet. It'll probably be around the chapter thirteen mark.**

**I've waffled on for enough - hope you enjoy this chapter. :)**

* * *

In the end, it was a simple choice for Quinn – being alone cooped up in her room in Yale paled in comparison to spending a few days in New York. She started to doubt that decision, though, as she stood outside the entrance to the apartment block of the loft that Rachel shared with Kurt (and apparently some other dude named Brody).

"You _live _here?" She asked, apprehensively as she eyed the building, but Rachel merely shook her head, laughing, and held the front door open for the blonde. It wasn't quite as awful in the lobby as she'd been expecting, but still – it wasn't exactly paradise, either. "Seriously?"

"Yes, Quinn, _seriously_. Come on." The petite brunette led her up the stairs that lay on the left hand side of the lobby after explaining that the elevator was broken, and after hauling her suitcase up six flights of stairs the brunette finally exited onto a floor, and Quinn let out a sigh of relief, almost sagging against the wall before deciding that she'd better not – she might catch something.

"It's not much," Rachel started as she hauled the sliding door open after unlocking it, "but it does well enough." Quinn hadn't been expecting much, so she was pleasantly surprised as she walked into the loft. Kurt and Rachel had obviously put a lot of effort into decorating and making it more homely, and it was immediately obvious who lived here by the décor – it screamed Kurt, and there were hints of Rachel's touches everywhere, too.

A brunette guy was lounging on the couch watching TV, and glanced up at the sound of the door opening, looking only mildly surprised when he noticed that Rachel wasn't alone. "Quinn, this is Brody; Brody, Quinn. She's going to crash here for a few days."

"Cool." Her clambered to his feet and wandered over to them, wrapping an arm around Rachel's slender waist as he smiled at the blonde and offered her his free hand to shake. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too." Quinn couldn't decide what her first impressions were, if she was being honest – he seemed friendly enough, she supposed.

"You can steal Kurt's room for tonight; the earliest he's coming back is tomorrow. We can figure something else out when he gets back."

"I can just sleep on the couch, Rach, it's fine."

"I wouldn't recommend that, Quinn, it's uncomfortable as fuck." Brody piped up, and a smile tugged at her lips. "I'm going to head for a shower 'cause I'm heading out with the guys later, okay?" That was directed at Rachel, and she nodded in reply before leaning up to kiss him chastely.

Quinn angled her body away, letting her eyes track around the room, and noting that none of the rooms had doors, only drapes that were hastily pulled across the doorways. "Kurt's room's that one," Rachel murmured after Brody had disappeared, indicating the furthest 'door'.

"So that one's yours?" The blonde asked as they walked past the middle room, the one that Brody hadn't gone into.

"Yeah."

"And where's Brody's room?" Her eyes sparkled with mirth when Rachel flushed a brilliant red, Quinn unable to stop the bubble of laughter escaping her lips at the expression on the brunette's face. "Rachel Berry, I am shocked."

"Oh come on, like you haven't done anything you normally wouldn't have done since you left home?"

"Uh, good point," Quinn replied, hastily turning her gaze away as thoughts of her in bed with Santana, and also of that singular night with Amy, rose to the forefront of her mind.

"Okay, not I'm intrigued. What's little miss perfect been up to at Yale?"

"Trust me when I say you probably don't want to know."

"Oh, no, I really do." They arrived at Kurt's room and brunette immediately perched on the edge of the bed, watching Quinn expectantly, but the blonde merely shook her head wryly. "Come on! Give me something, at least – does this mean you're no longer waiting until marriage?"

"Uh, Rach, hate to break it to you but that ship sailed a long time ago." The brunette shoved her shoulder playfully as she sat beside her on the bed, and she grinned.

"You know what I mean – you didn't sleep with anyone other than Puck in high school. Right?"

"In high school, yeah."

"But now?"

"Now… Maybe Yale's a bad influence on me. Actually, no – _alcohol _is a bad influence on me."

"You didn't learn your lesson the first time?" This time is was the blonde who pushed the brunette's shoulder.

"Apparently not. On the flip side, I didn't get pregnant this time."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, I'm absolutely positive." She smirked at that, and Rachel eyed her curiously, but she just shook her head – she wasn't going to spill all her secrets at once, after all. "So, what is there to do around here?"

"You know… _stuff_."

"Very articulate of you," Quinn teased, and the brunette made a face at her in return.

"Well, what do you want to do?" Quinn had merely shrugged, so they'd decided to leave without much of a plan, and just rode the subway until a random stop, the blonde being dragged by a practically hyperactive Rachel up the steps and onto the street beyond.

"Surely you shouldn't be so excited about this, you _live _here," Quinn gasped, breathing a little heavy, as she took in the sights of New York City as it pressed all around her. People were everywhere, hurrying along past them as they stood slightly off to one side of the street.

She had no idea where they were, but there were cute little café's everywhere, along with shops and coffee shops, bookstores and an all manner of other things that she ached to visit. "Yes, Quinn, but that doesn't mean that I've had much chance to explore!"

"Didn't you spend like, the whole summer here?" Quinn asked as they wandered over to a Starbucks to grab a drink before they carried on. The blonde simply bought a bottle of water, not really in a coffee mood, but apparently Rachel was – she ordered something that Quinn had never even heard of before.

"Yeah, but… It's not as fun alone."

"More scary, you mean?" She grinned as Rachel looked pointedly away as they payed for their drinks and headed back outside into the cool late afternoon air. It was getting on for four o' clock, and the sky was starting to darken, but the lights only made the city more beautiful.

They walked, arm in arm, down the street, pausing occasionally at shop windows and sometimes wandering inside, for a good two hours before the blonde started to get hungry and directed the brunette to the first vegan restaurant she spotted – a good time later.

She was grateful for the chance to sit down as she sank into her seat opposite from Rachel, eyes scanning the menu their waitress set in-front of them – she decided on simple pasta, and the brunette opted for a salad.

"Today's been fun," the blonde murmured as she glanced outside the window they were sat beside, watching the people outside hurry by, wandering who they were; what they would become.

"You sound surprised," came the dry reply from opposite her, but she saw that the brunette was smiling when she turned her gaze back to meet dark eyes. "Should I be offended?"

"Not at all. I just… Haven't had so much fun in a while." She offered a genuine smile at the girl across the table from her, who at one point she would have destroyed, utterly and completely, if she could have done – and now, here she sat, opposite the same girl and feeling more content than she had for a while.

Well, almost content. If there hadn't had been the niggling voice in the back of her head reminded her of her conversation with Santana that morning, then things would have been perfect.

"I'm glad. You looked… so sad at the station. I didn't want to ask what was wrong because it seemed like something intensely private, but if you want to talk, Quinn, please know that I'm here for you."

She wondered, as she contemplated how to answer, what she could have ever possibly done to erase all the things that she had done to Rachel Berry, to earn herself a friend, to have earned her trust in the way that she had.

"I know I can, Rach, believe me, but… you know me. I've never exactly been very forthcoming with how I'm feeling."

"But something's very obviously bothering you."

"No more than something's bothering you."

"Perhaps, but I've learnt how to deal with Finn, and our problems together, well enough over the last two years – you don't seem to have quite the same leverage." Quinn's lips twitched, at that, because technically she did – she knew Santana almost as well as she knew herself, but that didn't mean that she was better equipped to know what the Latina was thinking, or how to deal with that.

She glanced down at the table, where she was playing with the fingers on one of her hands, something that she did occasionally when she was nervous. And she was more nervous now than she had been for a while, as she debated on whether or not to spill her thoughts, to burden the brunette that sat just a foot away.

"You know it has something to do with Santana," she started, eventually, her words coming out haltingly, and her eyes still fixed on the white of the tablecloth.

"Yes," Rachel said gently, and Quinn knew that if she looked up the brunette's face would be encouraging.

"We had sex." She let that sink in, expecting an exclamation of surprise – perhaps even disgust – but receiving nothing but silence, so she continued. "Twice, over the last week or so. And I… I started to develop feelings that I knew I shouldn't have, and I _said _some things I shouldn't have, jealous over her and Brittany, and… she said that nothing should ever happen between us again."

She raised her head, then, feeling a little stronger, and one of Rachel's hands came to rest on top of her own, clasped now, her touch warm and reassuring. "I know it doesn't sound like much," she carried on, the words pouring from her mouth now, more than she'd been able to say to anyone else. "But it… It hurt, more than I thought it would."

"It _does _sound like a lot, Quinn." There was no pity in those dark eyes that sometimes, in the right light, could look hauntingly like those that she was certain she would be dreaming of tonight, if she could ever fall asleep. She'd expected pity, and she was grateful that she found not a trace of it in Rachel's face, more grateful than she knew how to put into words.

"Everyone said that she'd hurt me, break me, but I didn't listen, and they were right."

"You have always been known to go after what you want." She managed a smile at that, though a part of her wanted to cry again. Rachel squeezed her hands reassuringly, and once again Quinn was left wondering how she had earned this compassion.

"That is true. And usually what I want is the wrong thing – Finn, for example. Not one of my finest moments."

"He does seem to have that effect on people," Rachel winked, and the blonde choked on a laugh, already starting to feel better.

"Thank you," she murmured, as earnestly as she could manage. "So much."

"Any time, Quinn – I mean that." Their food arrived, then, cutting off any further conversation as they ate. It was almost seven when they left the restaurant, the blonde wishing that she'd worn a warmer coat when they stepped out into the bitter cold outside.

"I have an idea," she spoke through chattering teeth as they hurried towards the subway station at the end of the street, the chill from the wind abating slightly when they were underground.

"And what's that?"

"Ah, it's a surprise." She pulled the quizzical brunette to a stop beside a subway map, studying it critically and ignoring the amused quirk of Rachel's lips as she watched her, before taking her arm and tugging her to the left.

"You're not going to get us lost, are you?" Rachel asked as the blonde led her towards a platform, but she only sounded mildly concerned.

"That is entirely possible, but I don't plan on it, no."

"Very reassuring." The subway car was already at the platform when they got there –they hopped on, just barely, before the doors slammed shut, to the annoyed muttering from a few other passengers as they shuffled inside, trying to balance at the rapid burst of speed that sent them hurtling forwards. "You know, I don't really like surprises."

"Tough," Quinn grinned, but the brunette would know soon enough, anyway – their destination wasn't exactly inconspicuous, she would know as soon as the announcement came over the system when they reached their stop.

"Come on," Quinn breathed into the brunette's ear, against her mouth from where they had ended up pressed together in a sea of other people, when she heard the station called.

"Quinn," Rachel finally said when they were on the street once more. "We're on Broadway."

"Well done, Rach, I can see that you're education at NYADA is doing an astounding job." The brunette shoved her playfully away, but half-heartedly – she was too transfixed by the sights and sounds around her, soaking it all in. "So, what do you want to see?"

"What?"

"You think I brought you here just to tease you and then drag you back home?"

"Maybe?"

"Rach," she rolled her eyes, but the brunette didn't see – she was still too busy trying to absorb as much of the street as she could. "Seriously, what's decent around here?"

The tiny brunette went on a tirade for exactly seven minutes (Quinn timed it, while watching the brunette's face and wondering how such a small person could talk so loudly), until her wrist was seized and she was dragged towards a theatre while Rachel muttered under her breath about Quinn needing a 'good theatre education'.

The blonde was more amused than anything, just glad to be in this amazing place with someone who she could whole-heartedly consider a friend, and have something to take her mind away from her thoughts - of one particular woman especially.

They ended up watching some random show that Quinn hadn't even heard of until that night, but it was good, and Rachel seemed happy, and it was a welcome distraction. Afterward they ended up meeting with Brody's friends in a crowded bar, and though she didn't drink anything, she still had a good time – mostly because Rachel was hilarious when she was drunk.

She helped a nearly-sober Brody take Rachel home a few hours later, as the brunette tried to offer her 'helpful' advice on how to deal with her Santana situation, as Brody tried to look as though he couldn't hear – a fact which she appreciated, even though afterwards he probably knew more about it than Mercedes and Brittany combined.

"Night, Rach," she called, laughing, when they were back in the apartment and the brunette had stumbled drunkenly into her room, supported by a slightly bemused Brody. Quinn drew the drapes that separated Kurt's room from the rest of the apartment and sunk onto the bed, trying not to fell disappointed when she finally turned her phone back on and saw that there were no messages, save from a single text from her Mom.

With a sigh she stripped off what she was wearing and pulled on something to sleep in before climbing under the covers, exhausted. It had been a trying day, but it hadn't ended up too badly – she'd had a good time, and regretted that she hadn't come up to New York sooner. It was definitely a lot more interesting than New Haven.

She fell asleep easier than she would have thought possible after all that happened – but she felt like a weight had lifted off her chest after talking to Rachel, and her mind was filled with thoughts of show tunes and bright city lights instead of pain and heartbreak.

x-x-x

She woke up to loud singing the next morning and rolled over with a groan, pulling the pillow down over her ears in an attempt to drown out the noise and get back to sleep, but it was to no avail. She rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, glancing at the clock beside the bed as she did – it was nine o' clock, which was a horrendous time to be singing, in her opinion, especially when they'd all been out until past three the previous night.

Grumbling about lost sleep, she dragged herself out of bed and into the other room, where Brody was sat at the make-shift kitchen table with his head resting on his arms, and Rachel was in the kitchen, the source of the singing as she cooked breakfast.

"Quinn! You're up! Do you want anything?" Rachel sounded far too chipper considering the state she'd been in last night, Quinn decided, as she wandered sleepily over to the table to drop into the seat opposite Brody.

"Just coffee."

"Coming right up!"

"Is she like this every morning?" She asked the boy opposite her, who merely nodded before lifting his head up and running a hand through his hair.

"Every. Morning."

"I'm sure you find it endearing."

"Yeah, not so much." Quinn grinned at that, ducking her head to hide her smile as Rachel placed a mug of coffee down in-front of her – usually she wouldn't be drinking it, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and there was no way she'd get through this morning without it.

"And what are you two talking about?"

"Nothing, babe," Brody answered quickly as the brunette turned her gaze on them from where she stood at the stove.

"Hmm. If you say so." And then she went back to singing, and Brody's head dropped back onto his arms with a soft groan, and Quinn laughed again, hiding it as a cough.

"I'm gonna head for a shower, I think, and try and wake up a bit."

"Okay, are you sure you don't want any breakfast?" The blonde glanced over her shoulder at what Rachel was cooking, and decided promptly that maybe eating whatever that was was such a good idea.

"I'll just make some toast or something, I don't want to be any trouble."

"Are you _sure_?" But the blonde had already disappeared back into Kurt's room, letting the curtain fall shut behind her. She grabbed the towels the brunette had left out for her the previous day and headed for the bathroom, hopping into the shower as soon as the water warmed up, her mug of coffee resting on the counter.

She felt slightly more awake after she stepped out from the warm spray and into the cold, wrapping the towel around her waist and one around her hair before traipsing back to Kurt's room, freezing when she saw that there was already someone in there.

"Oh, shit, sorry – Rach said you wouldn't be back for a while," Quinn spoke hastily after the mini-heart attack she'd had upon seeing Kurt stood beside the window, eyeing the clothes she'd left on the bed for after her shower with slight confusion in his eyes.

"It's alright, Quinn, I just wasn't expecting to see you here."

"She didn't tell you?"

"Ah, no, she didn't, actually."

"But I thought she was out there cooking?"

"She may have been, but she isn't now – I'm fairly sure she's in her room with Brody, and I didn't want to interrupt _that_. I'll let you get changed." He left with a smile, and she dressed quickly, leaving her hair to dry naturally instead of trying to find a blowdrier.

"You didn't have to move everything right now, Quinn," Kurt commented when she re-emerged from his room, holding her bag in one hand. She shrugged and let it drop to the floor behind the couch before she sat down beside him.

"I know, but I figured you'd want my crap out of your room sooner rather than later."

"How long are you staying for?"

"I don't know. Until one of you kicks me out?" He grinned at that, and then promptly turned the volume on the TV up to almost deafeningly loud when a loud moan came from the direction of Rachel's room, shaking his head as he did it. "That happen often?" She asked, more amused than anything at the look of mortification on his face.

"Unfortunately, yes. Rachel's never exactly been the quietest of people, and sadly that extends to her sex life as well. Though at least _someone _in this apartment is getting laid." The last sentence was a mutter under his breath, and Quinn wasn't sure if she was supposed to have heard it, but she asked about it anyway.

"Things not going so well with you and Blaine?" She prompted, hoping she wasn't going too far – after all, she and Kurt had never really had much of a friendship, ever.

"No, not at all," he sighed, and she wondered how it was possible for such a small group of people to all have such complicated love lives. "It's why I'm back so early, actually."

"Join the club," Quinn murmured, and she saw Kurt eye her curiously, but he didn't press her on the subject. "I hope you'll be able to work things out; you two are good together."

"Thanks, Quinn. So did you come back with Rachel yesterday?"

"Yeah, I met her at the station and she asked if I wanted to come stay here for a few days instead of being in New Haven alone – it was kind of a no-brainer, really."

"I can see how it would be." They were interrupted by Brody appearing from Rachel's room, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers – he at least had the grace to look slightly sheepish as he walked quickly to the kitchen, grabbed two bottles of water, and then hurried back into the bedroom. "At least he wasn't naked this time. Must be because you're here – so please, please, stay for a while."

"He walks around naked?"

"Yes, and while I appreciate the male form, I don't need to see it every day, you know what I mean?"

"You know, I thought I would envy you for living here, but maybe I don't, after all." He grinned at that, and she glanced at her watch, wondering how two hours had slipped by since she'd woken up, without her even realising. "I think I might head out, do some sight seeing on my own – can you tell Rach where I've gone if she ever emerges from the sex cave?"

"Sex cave, I like that. Sure, I will. You'll be alright on your own?"

"I'll be fine; I can throw a punch," she assured him with a wink, before grabbing her jacket from the back of the door. "Have you guys got a spare key? I don't want to get locked out."

"Yeah, there's one in that bowl next to you." She held up the keyring to him to check it was the right one, and at his nod she waved and slid them into her pocket before sliding the door open and stepping into the corridor outside.

As she descended the stairs and made her way outside, she made a note of what street she was on lest she get lost trying to find her way back. She already had a plan for the day, and that was simply to head to one of those old bookstores she'd seen yesterday and lose herself in there for a few hours.

Somehow she managed to navigate the subway without getting lost. On the street it was cold, a few flakes of snow beginning to fall as she walking slowly, taking in her surroundings. She stopped to buy a sandwich on her way, thinking she should probably eat something, before noticing one of the stores she'd seen the previous day and making her way inside, immediately feeling more relaxed, surrounded by that unique smell that all books seemed to have.

She wandered around the shelves absently, letting her fingers trace along the spines as she went, not knowing what she was looking for but still perfectly content. Eventually she settled on a book that she'd read countless times before and already owned, but considering from here it cost about $2 she couldn't really complain.

Upstairs they had a coffee shop, and she bought a drink and then curled up in the corner beside a window with the book resting on her knee, content to lose herself in another world for a little while. She supposed that to most people, sitting holed up somewhere like this while she was in New York would probably be considered madness, but to her, it was a perfect way to spend the afternoon.

She was interrupted by her ringtone, jarring her out of reading as she scrambled to answer it before it went off. Rachel's number flashed across the screen and she pressed the green button as she lifted it to her ear.

"Hey, Rach, what's up?"

"_Hey, are you okay? We were just thinking about heading to Central Park to go ice skating and then maybe grabbing some food after? If you wanted to come with?" _

"That sounds great, are you still at the apartment?"

"_Yeah, it'll probably take us about ten minutes to get to the subway station; where are you?" _She rattled off the street, already committed to memory, and the brunette told her that she'd arrive at about the same time if she left in five minutes, and told her where to meet the trio before hanging up.

The blonde shoved the book back onto a shelf as she left, not caring about the little it'd cost her, and having not brought a bag out with her, before making her way back to the subway station, glancing briefly at the map because she was determined not to get herself lost.

Rachel, Brody and Kurt were already waiting for her on the other side, and she fell into step beside them as they made their up the steps and onto the street above. It was still snowing, and in the park it made for a picturesque scene as they strolled casually towards the ice rink, conversation flowing easily between the four of them.

Quinn wasn't terribly good at ice skating, but she'd been a few times and quickly picked it up again after a few minutes on the ice – which was more than she could say for Brody. He clung to the side as Rachel and Kurt whirled around him, effortlessly, and Quinn skated to a stop beside him to watch the other two twirl around.

"If you fall on your ass, I promise not to laugh," she told him solemnly, and he shoved her arm playfully – she glided away before he could make contact, coming to stop a few feet away.

"Show off."

"Aw, you're just jealous." He returned her grin, and she held out a hand to him. "Come on, I'll try and teach you seeing as those two apparently aren't going to help." Fifteen minutes later he was still unbalanced, but wasn't _quite _as bad before, and Quinn found herself laughing more than she had for a while.

"At least those two are having fun," he commented when they stopped for a break, as they leant on the outside of the rink, watching at Kurt and Rachel kept trying to outdo each other with different twists and turns.

"Oh, come on, you're having fun too, admit it."

"Uh, sure." She smiled, noticing the way his eyes followed the brunette as she whirled around, his face radiating with affection – she wondered if anyone would ever look at her that way, but then quickly turned the thought away.

"You really like her." It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway, tearing his gaze away from Rachel to meet Quinn's eyes instead.

"I love her," he said simply, eyes straying back to where the brunette was stood watching Kurt now as he showed off. "I just wish she loved me as much." Quinn felt the surprise wash over her face at that, and she smiled, ruefully. "Don't look so shocked – I know she still has feelings for her ex."

"Doesn't that bother you?" The blonde asked, honestly curious –Brody and Rachel's relationship had interested ever since she'd seen them kiss, right after Rachel had been complaining to the blonde about Finn.

"It does and it doesn't," Brody shrugged. "We're not exclusive, so… If she wants to go back to Lima in the holidays and sleep with her ex, I can't say anything about it."

"So it _does _bother you."

"It does when she doesn't tell me about it, because the whole point of being in an open relationship is honesty. She told me she didn't sleep with him, and I believe her – but I have a feeling that they spoke about getting back together, and that maybe she kind of wants to, and she hasn't told me about that."

"For what it's worth, from what I've seen so far, she'd be an idiot not to choose you over him."

"Thanks, Quinn, that means a lot. And I don't want you to think I'm prying, but… I overheard Rach last night, talking about this Santana girl?"

"It was kinda hard _not _to hear her, it's fine."

"Well, she's an idiot if she doesn't realise how great you are." Their eyes met once more and she smiled again, thinking that maybe opening up to people wasn't so bad when it seemed to bring people close together – she would have never thought that she'd be bonding with a practical stranger in Central Park over women, but there she was.

"You two seem to be getting along awfully well," Rachel's voice came from between them as she came to a perfect stop before them, Kurt just a little behind. "Should I be worried?" Her eyes showed that she was joking.

"Oh, absolutely," Brody replied, sliding an arm playfully over Quinn's shoulder. "Quinn and I are planning to run away together, just as soon as your backs are turned."

"It's true, Rach, I'm sorry. I just can't resist his charm."

"Uh-huh," the brunette replied, voice sceptical as she grinned at the pair of them. "Are you bored yet?"

"I feel like there's no correct answer to this question, help me, Quinn," Brody whispered under his breath to the blonde, who had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing aloud.

"Only if you two are," the blonde answered, and Brody nudged her side.

"Nice save," he commented as his kinda-sorta girlfriend and Kurt left the ice to come and join them outside. They handed their skates back and then made their way to a nearby restaurant that sold vegan food for Rachel, and something that all of the others would eat, too.

As she slid into a booth opposite Rachel and Brody, beside Kurt, and lost herself in the comfort and conversation they all offered her readily, Santana was the farthest thing from her mind – and that was just one of the many reasons, she decided, why this trip had been such a good idea, after all.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:**

**This one's more of a filler, and moves along quite quickly in order to get everything where it needs to be in order for the next few chapters to happen, but it needed to be done.**

**Also, to clear up a couple of reviews I got for the last chapter - this is still, very much so, a Quinntana story, as it always has been. Just because I mentioned there might be a little more Faberry friendship doesn't change that; hopefully you'll understand why, at the end of this chapter, I chose to include Rachel a little more in the story. **

**And with that, on with the chapter, hope you enjoy it as much as the others.**

* * *

"So, Quinn, did you have a good holiday?" It was her third day back at Yale, and it was the first opportunity that she'd had to catch up with Jamie since they'd both gotten back – she only three days ago, and him only that morning, having had no classes on the first two days. They were sat in their kitchen, eating the brownies that the blonde had made that afternoon when she'd finished for the day.

"It was okay. Until I ended up in New York for two weeks; that part was pretty awesome." Rachel, Kurt and even Brody had begged her to stay for as long as she could, so she had – and had had some of the best days of her life, and was in a better place for it. Her friendship with Rachel was probably better than it ever had been before, and she could now count the guys as close friends too – even Kurt had come to learn about her predicament with Santana, in the end.

"Wow, so busy then?"

"Pretty busy, but it was fun. How about you?"

"Yeah, it was good. Didn't get up to much but I guess that's what holidays are for, right?" She made a non-committal noise in response, around a mouthful of brownie. "Do anything fun for New Years?"

"Not really. I was staying with friends and we didn't end up going out, just watched musicals all night and got slightly drunk."

"Musicals?"

"They're all at NYADA," she added by way of explanation, and he nodded in understanding.

"Makes sense, then. Get a midnight kiss?"

"I did, actually, but not in the way I would have ever expected."

"Explain?"

"You probably don't want to know." A smile graced her lips at the memory. Rachel had had the most to drink out of the four of them, and after kissing Brody at midnight had decided to lay one on Quinn because 'she looked depressed' – the look on Brody's face afterwards had been priceless. "Did you?"

"Uh, no. I was at home by then, and Simon was too, so…" Quinn met his eyes and nodded, deciding that that was probably as close as she was going to get, for now, to an admittance that they were together – but she could see a slight hint of nerves in his eyes as she spoke so decided not to react to it. "You spend much time with Santana?"

"No." Her tone turned slightly icy at the mention of the brunette, and she saw shock pass briefly across his face and apologised quickly. "Sorry. Touchy subject."

"Ah, right. Sorry."

"Not your fault." She flashed him a quick smile before turning her eyes away, settling for staring outside the big bay window that lined one wall of the kitchen, beside the table they were sat at. She hadn't heard a word from Santana since _that _day, at all – she hadn't expected complete silence from the brunette's end, and it had hurt, but she refused to be the first one to break the silence, out of principle.

It wasn't as bad as she would have thought, though. Rachel had seemed to notice her looking at her phone with increasing regulatory as the days flew by, and had done as much as she could to try and distract her, which Quinn appreciated.

Even now, back at Yale with little in the way of distractions, she was doing okay. She was starting to think that she might be better off without Santana, after all – maybe it was for the best that it had ended when it had.

"Hey," Simon's voice broke the blonde out of her reverie, and she turned to see him leaning in the doorway. "You ready, J?"

"Going anywhere nice?" The blonde asked as Jamie made to stand.

"My friend's doing an open mic night at one of the campus bars – you can come if you want?"

"Nah I've got some work I want to try and get ahead with – have fun, though."

"See you around, Quinn." Both boys waved as they left, and soon after Quinn herself rose from the table, shoving the remaining brownies into the fridge on the way to her room. Her textbook was propped open from where she'd been reading before, and she flopped into her desk chair to try and get a plan of the paper she'd already been set done before she crawled into bed.

Her phone rang about five minutes after she'd sat down – _typical_, she thought, as she reached for her mobile to check who was calling her, expecting Rachel, even though they'd spoken earlier. Her heart stopped, though, when she read the name flashing across the screen – _Santana_.

Half of her wanted to let the phone ring until it went to voicemail, as a vindictive payback for the fact that the brunette had made no attempt to speak to her for over two weeks now, but the other half of her was suddenly desperate to hear the sound of Santana's voice – and that was the side that won, as she accepted the call and lifted the phone to her ear.

"Santana? What do you want?" There was a slight bite to her words, despite how much she'd missed the sound of the brunette's voice, and it was after a brief hesitation that a response finally came.

"_Quinn, I… I did something. Something bad."_ A million thoughts flashed through her head at that, countless scenarios flashing before her eyes – the worst of which was murder, which was probably a bit over-dramatic, but then again, she always had been. _"I didn't know who else to call_."

"What is it? What did you do?"

"_I… I lost my scholarship, Quinn. I lost it. They're kicking me out – I don't have anywhere to go._"

"What the hell did you _do_?" The blonde breathed, completely taken aback by what the brunette was saying – the whole time they'd been around each other, Santana hadn't once mentioned that she was having trouble at college.

"_I missed too many days. I fucked up, Quinn. I fucked up really bad and I don't know what to do. I can't go home – I can't face my Mom_." There was raw desperation in Santana's voice, and no matter what else the brunette had put her through, she ached to be able to put it right.

"She's going to find out soon rather than later, S," she pointed out, and there was a heavy sigh down the line.

"_I know. But I… How do I tell her?" _

"I don't know, S, I don't know."

"_Could I maybe… After I go and talk to her, I mean, could I maybe come see you?"_

"Santana, I really don't think that's a good idea right now." Even though a traitorous part of her heart leapt at the brunette's words, she was almost a hundred percent sure that her coming back to New Haven was a terrible idea.

"_Okay, I guess I deserve that. Look, I'm sorry about what I said - "_

"No," Quinn cut her off, tone cold. "No, we're not talking about this now, not over the phone. You made it perfectly clear how you feel; you don't need to apologise for being honest." Sounds of protest started to echo into her ear, so she started talking again hastily before she heard something that would break down all of the carefully constructed walls that she'd built up since that day.

"I have classes now, Santana, you can't just come up whenever you like to try and run away from your problems. Go back to Lima, talk to your Mom, figure out a plan."

"_One that doesn't involve New Haven?_" The brunette's voice was soft, quiet, and laced with something that Quinn couldn't identify – and she wasn't sure that she wanted to.

"Yes."

"_Is there really no way to get back to what we were… before?" _

"I don't know," Quinn sighed, heavily, feeling a slight sting of tears in her eyes. "But not right now."

"_I really am sorry, you know. Sorry I hurt you; sorry I'm such a bitch. You deserve better." _Quinn didn't know how to answer that, and silence stretched between them. _"I understand if you don't want me to talk to you again, but I'd really rather you didn't tell me to." _

"You were the one who hasn't said a word to me in two weeks," the blonde replied, tone bitter, acidic, and she could practically feel Santana flinch on her end of the line.

"_Because I didn't think you'd want me to."_

"Well I am _so _glad, S, that you can make such decisions for me – really, I am." Her voice was creeping up in volume and she forced herself to take a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to calm her emotions.

"_I'm sorry." _

"Yeah, you've already fucking said that about a million times, and it doesn't make me feel any better, S."

"_What else do you want me to say?"_

"I don't know." _Everything you're thinking_, said a voice inside her head, but she forced that down, unwilling to show how much Santana drove her insane. "Look, I have stuff to do."

"_Okay. I shouldn't have bothered you, sor - "_

"If you say sorry one more time, so help me, Santana - "

"_Alright, alright! I'll call you when I've figured stuff out?" _

"Sure."

"_Bye, Q." _She hung up without replying, staring at the brunette's name emblazoned across the screen of her phone for a few minutes before putting it away, knowing that trying to get any work done now would be useless.

So instead she climbed into bed and put in one of the many DVDs that Rachel had sent her from New York with – all musicals, obviously – that she apparently 'needed to watch'. She wasn't really concentrating on what she was watching, but hey, at least she'd tried.

She wondered how Santana could have let it get to the point where she'd be kicked out of college –and then recalled the amount of times the brunette had said she'd been back to visit Lima during the last semester, and suddenly understood.

She couldn't understand the draw that the town had to the brunette, but, she supposed, a big reason for several of those visits had probably been to see Brittany. The thought didn't curdle into jealously in the pit of her stomach, like usual, which she hoped was a sign that Santana was starting to mean less to her –but it was probably more likely to just be the fact that Quinn was starting to see that there was no way that Brittany would ever get back together with Santana, so there was nothing to _be _jealous about.

Two hours later and having absolutely no idea what the plot of RENT was, she put in another movie that she'd already seen countless times before and curled up on her side, closing her eyes and letting the familiar dialogue lull her to sleep.

x-x-x

"_So, I have a plan." _Three days later Santana had called again, and Quinn was feeling slightly less anger towards the brunette after a two hour Skype conversation with Rachel about the Latina the previous night, where they had attempted to decide what the hell was on Santana's mind half the time. They hadn't really achieved anything, but it had still made her feel better. "_Sue's going to let me take over coaching the Cheerios." _

"Oh."

"_That's it? 'Oh'?" _It was one of the last things that she would have expected Santana to say – especially when she actually seemed to think that it was a good idea.

"Yeah, that's it. S… You _hated _having to do whatever Sue told us to doo back in high school."

"_Well yeah, but this is different. _I'll _be the coach. _I _get to order people around_."

"Has she actually retired yet?"

"…_No._"

"Then you're still going to have to do what she says until she does." The blonde rolled over onto her back to stare at the ceiling –it was noon on Saturday, and she hadn't gotten up yet, mainly due to that fact that she'd gone out with Jamie, Simon, and a few other people last night in an attempt to try and be more social this semester, and had only gotten back at five in the morning.

"_Could you at least try to sound happy for me?" _

"Look, S, if this is really what you want to do, then I say go for it. But… It's not your dream – you can't lie to me and try and say it is."

"_What else am I supposed to do?"_

"I don't know. Didn't you want to live in New York, once upon a time?"

"_How the hell am I supposed to make it in New York without a job first?" _

"Didn't your Mom give you money for it?"

"_Yeah, but… Even with that, where would I live?"_

"You know," Quinn started, wondering if she was going to regret suggesting this. "We have friends who have an apartment, and I have it on good authority that they have enough room for another roommate."

It had been Rachel who had suggested it, last night, and Quinn had thought that it sounded like a good idea – it'd give the brunette something to do, and surely she couldn't get bored in New York (which was what, Quinn suspected, had happened in Kentucky – the brunette had grown bored, so sabotaged the scholarship in order to get out of it).

"_Move in with those two losers? Quinn, come on. We wouldn't last a week without one of us wanting to murder the others. And I probably _will _murder one of them_."

"Just… think about it, alright? It might surprise you."

"_I'll consider it_."

"Good. And on that note, I'm going to have to go."

"_Hot date?" _There was a teasing note to the brunette's voice that Quinn hadn't heard for what felt like a long time, but it didn't make her smile quite as much as it had used to.

"Uh, I do, actually," she replied, and she heard the sharp intake of breath from the brunette at her words, unexpected as they were. Quinn could hardly believe it herself, but then again, she couldn't really be surprised – it had happened while she'd been drunk, after all.

They'd run into Amy last night, and Jamie had somehow managed to convince her to go talk to the other woman, and then she'd _somehow _agreed to go for coffee with her the next morning, without quite knowing how. But, she'd come to see, Amy was a good person – she didn't deserve the response she'd gotten from the blonde after the night they'd ended up in bed together, something which Quinn felt the need to explain, now that she knew, a little, what it felt like to be on the other end of that situation.

"_Oh_." That was the only response she received, and she told herself she was imagining that there was a note of pain in that single syllable.

"Yeah, so I should really get ready… Talk to you soon, and let me know what you decide!"

"_Yeah, I will. Later, Q." _She hung up and then forced herself out of bed and into the shower, managing to be ready and out of the door half an hour later, exactly on time. Amy was waiting for her outside her dorm, playing absent-mindedly on her phone.

"Hey," Quinn called out in greeting, and the raven-haired girl glanced up, smiling as her eyes met the blonde's.

"Not feeling the effects of last night?"

"A little, but I'm not too bad. Yourself?"

"Oh, I was nowhere near as far gone as you were, believe me. I have to admit, I was half-afraid you wouldn't show today, and had forgotten even having a conversation with me."

"That bad, huh?" Quinn laughed as they fell into step beside each other, heading for the closest coffee shop. Once inside she just grabbed a bottle of water, unsure if her stomach would be up for much more than that. Amy ordered a coffee, and they claimed a table as they waited for it to be brought over. "So, I owe you an apology," she stated, slightly solemnly, almost as soon as they were sat down.

"Wow, you don't waste any time, do you?" But her blue eyes sparkled to show she was joking as she regarded the blonde over the table.

"I've been a massive jerk towards you for so long, I'm surprised you even gave me a second chance."

"What can I say? I have a weakness for cute blondes." A light flush coloured Quinn's cheeks at that, unused to being so openly complimented, and deciding that she didn't mind it at all. "Especially ones that blush."

"You're really that forgiving?"

"Look, I knew within talking to you for about three seconds that you were probably starting to come to terms with your sexuality without even actually realising it. I probably shouldn't have slept with you that night, but I was just as drunk as you so I wasn't really thinking. I wasn't surprised when you snuck out the next morning, or even when you avoided me – so there's nothing to forgive, really."

"Wow, okay – are you sure it shouldn't be you taking psych and not me?"

"I'm just good at reading people. So, can I assume by the fact that you're here that you're over your gay panic?" Quinn had to smile at that, even though it was tinged with a hint of sadness –Santana, after all, had been the last to say that phrase to her.

"Kind of." She flashed a grin, which was returned.

"Well that's good, then. Means I don't have to worry about freaking you out with anything I say." Amy winked, and Quinn found herself smiling again, remembering how good a time she'd actually had for the brief few weeks the two of them had been close.

They stayed there for two hours – which flew by – before going their separate ways but with the promise to meet up again soon. Quinn was fairly sure that all Amy would ever be to her was a friend; she didn't set her heart racing like Santana did, didn't make her head spin with a look, or a touch. But she'd take friendship over nothing, because she could really use some decent friends around her, here, and it was about time she made some.

x-x-x

"_You have to come visit us soon, Quinn, _soon_. Otherwise it's quite possible that Kurt will kill her, and I'm really not comfortable with trying to cover that up, I have a career to think about, I can't go to jail." _Quinn was sat outside the library on one of the benches, relaxing in some rare sunshine as she spoke to Rachel – apparently Santana moving in hadn't gone too smoothly.

"I can possibly come next weekend. And I'm sure he won't kill her. And in any case, I'm really not sure Kurt could take her in a fight." Two weeks had passed since her first 'date' with Amy, and they were kind of, sort of dating, she supposed – despite thinking that perhaps they'd be better suited as friends, they'd been out four times, kissed a few times, but Quinn wasn't ready to put any sort of label on what they had. She was figuring herself out, and thankfully the other woman seemed to recognise that.

Her relationship with Santana had also improved over those two weeks – it was no longer strained, though they never delved into anything other than the present, and that, for now, suited the both of them. It was easier that way, though she wasn't so sure that things would be so easy when they saw each other for the first time in over a month, if she did decide to head to New York for the weekend.

"_Yes, please do! We miss you. And maybe she won't be so cranky if you're here. All she does when she's not working is mope." _

"I can safely say in all the time I've known her, I've never seen Santana mope. Are you sure that's what she's doing? She might secretly be plotting something."

"_No, she's definitely moping, and when anyone asks her what's wrong she explodes. It'd almost be funny if she wasn't so crazy." _The last word was a whisper, and Quinn couldn't stop a smile.

"Is she there? Is that why you're being so unusually quiet?"

"_She might hear me." _

"You could take her Rach, don't you worry."

"_I could _not. _I wouldn't stand a chance."_

"'I'll teach you self-defence when I see you, then you'll be unstoppable." She spotted Amy out of the corner of her eye and waved to catch her attention – she quickly changed paths and crossed over to where the blonde sat, perching beside her on the bench.

"_Yeah, I'm not so sure about that. I'm going to have to get ready for class soon, so call me when you know what you're doing?" _

"Class? At this time?" It was nearing five o' clock in the afternoon, and the blonde had had the luxury of finishing three hours earlier – she was a big fan of her Tuesday schedule.

"_Yeah. Dance class. With Brody." _

"Oh, yeah, I bet. That what you're calling it nowadays? Just an excuse to get naked somewhere other than your apartment?" She teased, knowing that Santana had already interrupted the couple having sex on at least three occasions, because 'she did not need to listen to that shit'.

"_You're hilarious."_

"I know, I know. I'll call you later, okay? After I've looked at trains and stuff, and see how much work I get saddled with over the next couple of days."

"_Alright – I'll see you soon, hopefully."_

"Bye, Rach." She hung up the phone and turned to Amy beside her, who met her eyes with a ready smile. "Hey."

"Hey. You going to visit them soon? Couldn't help overhearing."

"Uh, yeah, this weekend, I think. We didn't have plans, did we?" The other woman shook her head, and Quinn nodded, a little relieved that she hadn't forgotten anything important.

"Do I ever get to meet these mysterious friends I hear so much about?" Amy's tone was light, teasing, but Quinn could see something else in her eyes that she wasn't giving voice to – she suspected it had to do with the fact that she didn't want to tell anyone that they were dating (or whatever they were doing), something which had caused a little tension between them recently.

But the blonde didn't really see why it was such a big deal – whatever was happening between them had only been going on for two weeks; she didn't see the point in flaunting something when she didn't even know what it was, herself.

"At some point, yeah. I'd say you could come with, but… Probably not the best idea considering there's a lot of tension there since Santana moved in."

"Oh. You didn't tell me she lived with them now." She hadn't told Amy a thing about her and the brunette, but she must have remembered the outright jealously Santana had shown that night when they'd run into Amy over the holidays, and every time she mentioned the Latina's name she'd get a slightly sour look on her face.

"Yeah, only a few days ago. Is that a problem?" She asked, because she was feeling direct, and also because she was curious what the answer would be.

"Not at all."

"Really? Because it looks like it is."

"I know you have feelings for her; maybe that's my problem. Maybe you should stop leading me on." Quinn felt the shock on her face at that, and fought to get her expression back under control.

"I wasn't aware I was leading you on," she said, voice a shade colder than usual. "I never said that I wanted a relationship, that I wanted exclusivity, and you never brought it up either. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression."

"Can you see yourself having anything with me? Because if the answer to that question is no, then yeah, I'd say that you were leading me on." There was a note of irritation in Amy's voice that got on Quinn's nerves, just a little.

"If you think you have me so figured out," she started, rising to her feet as she spoke. "Then why the hell did you agree to keep going out with me if you knew I was 'only leading you on'?" She didn't give the other woman time to reply, just strode away, back to her dorm, thoughts of the movie they'd been planning to see quickly fading from her mind.

When she arrived back to her floor, Jamie's door was propped open and he sat inside with Simon and another two people – one, Michael, was a guy she'd met a couple of times over the last few weeks who she got along pretty well with, but she didn't know the redhead girl also sat with them.

"You look like you've had a rough day," Jamie commented as she paused in the doorway to say hi. "Come in and complain about it, if you like." She took the invitation, not really wanting to brood alone in her room, and placed herself on the floor, leaning against the wall opposite the bed, so she was beside Michael and the other girl.

"Don't introduce me, then," the girl piped up after a few seconds, and Jamie merely made a face at her, so she stuck her hand out to the blonde. "Emilia."

"Quinn," she replied, shaking the proffered hand.

"So, what's got you looking so sorry for yourself?" Jamie asked, leaning forward from where he sat on the bed to take a closer look at her face. "Women troubles?"

"Yeah. Girls are stupid," she replied, which made all of them laugh.

"You're preaching to the choir, babe," Michael muttered from beside her – she understood that he'd gone through a pretty bad break-up not long ago, and Jamie and Simon were attempting to keep his mind off of it, which was why he'd been around so much lately.

"What did Santana do this time?"

"Nothing, actually. This time it was Amy."

"How many women are you juggling?" Emilia asked, but the soft smile on her face told Quinn that there was no malice in the question.

"She gets around," Michael said on her behalf, and she smacked him on the shoulder, hard enough for him to nearly go toppling forward. "Jeez, woman, watch the merchandise."

"Jerk," she muttered, but it was half-hearted. He reminded her a lot of Puck – just without the over-sexualised comments, and the general bad-boy image – which, she'd decided, was probably why she liked him so much.

"Anyone want pizza? I'm gonna order one, I think." Jamie cut the exchange short, and there was a chorus of nods all around. He decided to get and _get _the pizza, and of course Simon had to go along, so the three left behind all decided that it was really just an excuse for them to have a few moments alone.

"I'm going to go get some money from my room – don't you two crazy kids get up to anything naughty while I'm gone." Michael winked as he rose to his feet, and then scrambled out the way as Quinn made to hit him again.

"Asshole!" She called after him instead, but she was laughing as she said it. Two months ago, she would have been terrified to have been left alone in a room with someone she'd never spoken to before, but not anymore.

"So, Quinn," Emilia drawled as soon as they were alone. "How come I've never seen you before? Where have Simon and Jamie been hiding you?"

"I wasn't the most sociable last semester," the blonde shrugged, shifting so that her legs were stretched out in-front of her. "But I wanted things to change this time around, so… Here I am. How do you know the guys?"

"I have classes with Simon – it didn't take him long to introduce me to Jamie."

"And are you…?"

"Gay? No. Though I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it…" She trailed off and Quinn smiled, thinking that maybe this girl would be a better choice for a friend than Amy ever had been. "And you? I mean, I'm guessing you are seeing as you're apparently having issues with people named Santana and Amy, but hey, you never know."

"To be honest I haven't thought about it that much. I'm just… trying to deal with what I'm feeling, rather than trying to label anything."

"That sounds like a very good plan. If this pizza ever arrives, afterwards we're supposed to be heading back to my place for a move marathon – do you want to come, too?"


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **

**Sorry this took a little longer than usual, I had a busy couple of weeks - hope you enjoy this one.**

"Quinn!" The blonde was bowled over in a hug practically as soon as she stepped off the train at Grand Central Station, by the very tiny brunette who had insisted to meet her there, even though she'd assured Rachel that she could find her way to the apartment on her own.

It was six by the time they made it back, to find Brody and Kurt arguing over what to watch – and with Santana nowhere in sight.

"She's working," Rachel explained upon seeing the blonde looking around for the fourth roommate of the New York loft, and she nodded in understanding. "She should be back soon, though."

Quinn wasn't exactly sure how she felt about that, if she was being honest. Their friendship was still going okay, not as strained as it had been not so long ago, but she had a feeling it would be different once they were together again.

It would also be a hell of a lot harder to hide the way she felt about the brunette when they were face-to-face, something which she wasn't particularly looking forward to. She'd almost accepted the fact that Santana was just someone that she was drawn to, but that didn't mean that she was ready for _Santana _to know that.

The brunette's presence in the apartment was already clear to see, even though she was absent. The hastily erected third curtain in the corner of the main room was the biggest indicator that someone else had moved in since the last time Quinn had been here, and she was sure that the space behind it must be tiny, a fact that was sure to drive the brunette mad.

"You want food, Quinn? I cooked lasagne before – I assure you that it is much more edible than anything Rachel has ever made in her entire life." Kurt grinned at the blonde over the back of the couch, and Quinn couldn't help but laugh at the look of outrage on Rachel's face.

"Kurt Hummel!" She exclaimed, taking a deep breath and drawing herself up, ready to explode. "I am - "

"Shocked and appalled by my outrageous behaviour, yadda yadda – I got it Rach, don't worry," he deadpanned, turning back to the TV screen and missing the brunette's gaping. "Food's in the kitchen, just needs heating up. And yes, there is also a vegan one – you'll be glad, I'm sure, to hear that Brody ate from that one, so you will still want to have sex with him later tonight."

"Dude!" Brody called with indignation, from beside the other boy on the couch. "Not cool."

"Well, is that, or is that not, the reason you passed up the meat one?" Quinn smiled at their bickering, dropping her bag behind the couch and examining the two dishes in the kitchen. She decided that the larger one was the non-vegan one, and cut a slice, heating it in the microwave.

She did the same for a piece of the vegan one too, despite Rachel's insistence that she shouldn't because she was the guest, and handing the right plate to the brunette as she sat beside her on the smaller two-seater sofa, not realising how hungry she was until food was actually in-front of her.

"That was amazing, Kurt – can I hire you as a chef after long days of classes?" She asked when she was finished, and when Rachel had taken the dishes to wash - after batting Quinn's hands away when she'd offered to do them herself.

"Honey, you couldn't afford me," he said seriously, and the blonde's lips twitched into a smile as Rachel collapsed beside her again, resting her head on Quinn's shoulder.

"Surely you should be doing that on me," Brody pointed out when he noticed, but Rachel only shrugged.

"I see you every day, Quinn's only here for the weekend. Besides, she's comfy."

"Comfier than me?" He asked in mock horror, and the blonde decided that he would make a good actor, some day.

"Mm, perhaps. I couldn't say – I wouldn't want one of you to get jealous." The door crashed open then, and Quinn's eyes lifted, along with everyone else's, to see Santana striding through the doorway, yanking the door shut behind her.

She didn't notice the blonde at first, but when she did, she stopped dead in her tracks as their eyes met, and Quinn was pretty sure she forgot to breathe – Santana looked amazing, in a short, tight dress that showed off all of her assets in one, elegant go.

"Hey, Quinn," she murmured, her voice feeling, to the blonde, almost like a gentle caress – the phone didn't do her justice, at all.

"Hey," she replied, lips twitching into an almost shy smile as her eyes traced the brunette's face, remembering every detail – she'd almost forgotten how long it had been since they'd seen each other, how much could change in such a short amount of time.

"You have a good shift, Santana?" Kurt's voice broke them out of their reverie, and Quinn's eyes snapped away from swirling brown, almost guiltily, and instead fixed on the floor.

"It was alright. Nothing special. Got a few tips though." Quinn chanced a glance upwards to see the brunette looking at Rachel's head resting on her shoulder with a higher level of scrutiny than Quinn really thought the situation called for.

And then the next second, as soon as Rachel lifted her head to say something to Brody, Santana had squeezed herself into the non-existent gap between Quinn and Rachel, into the smallest space imaginable, and leaving absolutely no room on the tiny two-seater.

"_Santana_," Rachel hissed, eyes snapping around to meet the other brunette's, flashing with irritation. "What the hell are you _doing_?"

"Sitting down."

"There _are _other places to sit other than on mine and Quinn's laps, you know," the diva scoffed, sounding faintly disgusted, as she rose to her feet and instead curled up next to Brody, resting her head on his shoulder instead, her legs draped across his lap.

Even though Rachel had disappeared, Santana didn't move into the space she'd left behind – Quinn could feel the warmth emanating from the brunette all over her body, and her skin felt on fire wherever they were touching. After going so long without even being in the same room together, so much at once was overwhelming – but she didn't have the restraint necessary to get up and move.

"So, Quinn," Kurt was the one to break the silence that had fallen between the five of them, and his eyes sought the blonde from where he sat. "How's Yale?"

"It's good. Keeps me busy, at least. You enjoying NYADA?"

"Definitely!" He practically beamed, and she could honestly say she was happy for him – he had almost as much talent at Rachel, and after his audition she'd been amazed that he hadn't gotten in first time, but it showed, she supposed, that persistence paid off.

"You know," Santana drawled from beside the blonde, turning her gaze to eye the three on the other couch. "What do you even do at that school, anyway? Whenever I've been you're always in the same dance studio."

"You've been twice, Santana. Twice." Rachel was the one who answered, her voice exasperated, but Quinn knew that would only serve to encourage Santana on.

"Twice is enough times to determine a lot of things; just ask Quinn."

"Santana!" Again, it was Rachel who spoke – this time she was outraged, and Quinn would have been too, had she not have frozen at the brunette's words. Even though the other three all knew that something had happened between the two of them, Santana didn't know that they did, and the fact that she would flippantly reveal something like that made Quinn's blood boil.

"You are _unbelievable," _she hissed, finally, voice furious, before rising to her feet and stalking into the only room that had an actual door (the bathroom), without another word, not sparing a glance towards anyone as she went.

She locked the door behind her as soon as she was inside, and then slid down to sit on the floor, resting her head on her knees with a heavy sigh. Okay, so maybe this trip had started disastrously, but that didn't mean that it had to end that way.

She knew what she needed, and that was to have it out with Santana, get everything out in the open between them, every unspoken word that still stood between them, but she could hardly kick the other three out; it was their apartment, after all.

And it really wasn't the sort of conversation that she'd ever want to have in public, considering the outcome was likely to be a screaming match of rough sex; or possibly both – she definitely wouldn't mind if both happened.

Of course, considering sex with Santana again was probably a terrible idea, but she couldn't deny the attraction she felt for the brunette. Even now, she could still feel how her body had reacted to them being so close together – it was electric, addictive, and she couldn't get enough of it.

A soft knock came at the door, but she ignored it, until it came again, twice more. "Quinn, it's me." Rachel's voice called softly through the heavy door. "Let me in."

The blonde slid to one side and then flicked the lock open, allowing the brunette inside. She shut and locked the door again behind her, and perched on the edge of the bathtub, eyeing Quinn warily. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," she replied, heavy with the sarcasm before remembering that Rachel was only trying to help. "Sorry."

"No, no, it's okay. I invited you here after all – I honestly thought it'd do the both of you good, but apparently I was wrong."

"It's not your fault, Rach. We're a little explosive, I would've thought that you'd have noticed that by now."

"True. Kurt, Brody and I were planning on heading to an open mic night… Do you want to come with us?"

"Is Santana staying?"

"Yeah. She said, and I quote, 'no fucking way am I ever going to any shit like that, get the fuck out of my way Lady Hummel', before very ineffectually trying to slam her curtains shut."

"That sounds about right." Despite herself, she felt her lips twitch at Rachel's words – half because she could see it all happen, and half because she'd never heard the tiny brunette swear so much in one go. "I think I'll stay. Maybe we can get some stuff sorted out while you're gone."

"Okay," the diva nodded before climbing to her feet. She paused in the doorway and looked back. "Quinn? Try not to kill each other while we gone – I meant what I said on the phone a while ago; I'm really not comfortable with covering up a murder."

She left, then, and the blonde followed her out a few moments later, still smiling. Santana was nowhere to be seen as the other three were making their preparations to get ready to go out, and she assumed that she was hidden in her corner of the apartment, but she didn't ask.

She helped Rachel do her hair, for something to do, because she'd always loved styling other people's as well as her own, and it was relaxing, besides.

"You're amazing!" The brunette gushed when she was done, and after she'd helped her pick something to wear. From the look in Brody's eyes as they travelled the length of his girlfriend's form (they'd made things official last weekend, apparently), it looked like he agreed. "Thank you." The tiny brunette flung her arms around Quinn's neck then in a quick hug before the three of them left, leaving her alone with Santana.

With a deep breath to build herself up, she walked over to where she assumed the brunette was, and yanked the purple curtains that had been absent from the apartment the last time she'd been there open, and startling Santana to the extent that she actually jumped.

She was sprawled across her bed with a book in her hand, and Quinn was startled to see that it was the book that she'd been reading on their return trip to Lima. She couldn't recall the last time that Santana had read anything that she didn't have to for class (and even then, she rarely did), but the fact that it was the _same _book had her stopping in her tracks.

"What the fuck, Q?" She asked, hastily shoving the book under the messy covers of her bed and pushing herself so that she was upright, her eyes meeting the blonde's.

"I could ask you the same question. Care to explain why you felt the need to declare the fact that we've had sex twice to people that _aren't us_?"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. _But_," Santana continued, holding up a hand when the blonde open her mouth to speak. "I was pretty sure they already knew about us. Didn't they?" There was a challenge in the brunette's gaze and Quinn sighed, knowing that she was defeated.

"Fine, yeah, they did. Does it matter?"

"It matters that you'd get so pissed off about it – doesn't that strike you as a tad hypocritical, Q?"

"No, because you didn't know for sure that they knew! And don't act like you've kept your mouth shut about the whole thing – I know Brittany knows something." She watched Santana mull that over, biding her time before replying, and Quinn crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.

"Yes, she knows," the brunette began, almost hesitantly. "But only because she asked. Is it really the fact that I wanted someone to talk to about you that's the problem, here, or just the fact that I chose Brittany?"

The chiming of her phone saved her from having to answer, and she glanced at it, to see Emilia's name across the screen and smiled. They'd hung out a few times that week, and had become fast friends.

_Hey, sexy lady, I hope you're having fun, seeing as you left me all alone with no entertainment. Well, okay, I'm out right now with the guys but it's not the same without you - call me later! _

"Who's that?" Santana's voice was closer than it had been before, and she glanced up to see that the brunette had moved almost to the end of the bed, eyeing the blonde's phone with a glare.

"Why do you care?" She saw the brunette's jaw clench, and choked on a laugh. "Are you _jealous_?"

"Oh, some nerve _you _have to call _me _jealous when a second ago you were getting pissed off just as the _mention _of Brittany's name!"

"Oh, _please_," Quinn spat back, falling easily back into bitch-mode, always so close to the surface when she and Santana were at odds. "Don't flatter yourself, S."

"You're a fucking liar, do you know that?" Santana's voice was acidic, and she moved from the bed so that she was stood just a few feet away from the blonde, close enough for Quinn to practically feel the waves of frustration emanating from her. "Do you _like _having the same conversation over and over again?"

"I'd hardly call this a conversation, S, I'd call this an _argument. _And yeah, it does, you know why? Because you claim to be over her, but have you realised that every fucking time, it's _you _that brings her up?"

Silence fell, then, and Quinn was breathing heavily, knew her eyes were probably wild, but she didn't care. _This _was what she should have said last time, instead of meekly accepting it when Santana suggested they stop whatever it was between them. Her phone buzzed again, still in her hand, and she glanced down once more, deciding that Santana wasn't going to be very forthcoming for now.

_Uh, okay so I may have run into that Amy chick, and I may have flipped out when she started talking smack about you and I may or may not have punched her in the face. The things I do for ya, Q. ;) _

The blonde almost laughed aloud as she read the text – she'd gone out last Saturday night with the usual suspects of Jamie, Simon, Michael and Emilia, and the three guys had disappeared at some point, and of course, as she'd been alone with Emilia, Amy had appeared with some bitter remarks about how 'Quinn moved on fast'; needless to say, Em had had a deep rooted hatred of the other woman ever since.

"Something funny?" Santana's voice was even closer, now, and Quinn glanced up to see the brunette was reading the text upside down. "How's your girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Quinn rolled her eyes and shoved the phone away, taking a step back to distance herself a little from the brunette. "She's just a friend – a _straight _friend, so there's no need for you to be jealous over someone you've never met."

"'Cause you can really talk about jealously." It was a scathing remark, dripping with sarcasm, but Quinn didn't flinch under the accusing gaze of Santana's dark eyes.

"Okay, _fine_, you want me to honest? Yes, I was jealous of Brittany. Happy?"

"Was?" Santana zeroed in on the tense, and Quinn sighed. She _was _being honest – she knew now that there was absolutely no point in wasting her energy worrying about Santana and Brittany getting back together because it wasn't going to happen, and she'd actually started to tentatively re-build her fractured friendship with the other blonde recently, a fact which she was sure that Santana knew perfectly well.

"Yes, _was_. Glad we cleared that up." Not liking the scrutiny of Santana's gaze she turned and walked back into the kitchen with a vague mumble about needing a drink. The brunette didn't follow her, so Quinn sighed once again and threw herself down on the couch after retrieving one of the many bottles of water that were in the fridge. She fished her phone out of her pocket, decided that she could at least have _some _friendly conversation for the night.

"_So you only call after I tell you about my impressive feats in fist fights – that's good to know. I'll keep that in mind next time you don't pick up." _She laughed, reclining back on the couch and staring up at the ceiling, trying to relax.

"Did you really punch her in the face?"

"_Well, not exactly. It was more of a slap. But still. Looked like it hurt." _The blonde could just about imagine what the scenario would have looked like, and she felt a smile stretching across her face. _"How's NYC?" _

"Alright."

"_Well if that isn't the most unenthusiastic response I've ever heard in my entire life – what's up, Q?" _Emilia had taken to called her by just her initial pretty soon into their friendship, and she didn't mind as much as she thought she would – Santana, after all, was the only one who had ever used it before, but there was a hell of a lot of difference between the two.

"Oh, you know. Just the usual."

"_Santana troubles_?" Emilia didn't know the half of it, but she knew a few details, and Quinn had left her to form her own opinion about the brunette.

"Uh-huh."

"Wow, you're fucking antisocial, you know that?" Quinn glanced over the back of the couch to see Santana standing there, glaring down at her, and unless she was mistaken, there was a hint of resentment in the brunette's gaze.

"I wonder why?" She replied sarcastically, about to hang up when Santana's hand moved, lightning quick, to snatch the phone away and lift it to her own ear.

"Quinn can't talk right now. Sorry. Well, not really." She hung up on Emilia and then handed the phone back, looking entirely too smug for Quinn's liking. Furious, she sprang to her feet, and had the gratification of seeing Santana flinch backwards, probably glad that the couch was in-between them.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?!"

"We were in the middle of a conversation." Quinn's teeth ground in irritation, and she forced herself to try and stay calm, remembering that this was only the first day – she had another two to survive, yet.

"Were we? Because I thought it finished, but please, go on. What, exactly, is it you want to say to me that you haven't already?" She knew she was being bitter, but it was incredibly hard not to keep remembering what had happened the last time she'd seen the brunette – the memory still hurt, all these weeks later.

"Look, I really am sorry about what happened, okay? If I could go back, I would."

"Back to the start, or to the end?" Her voice was softer now, her curiosity echoing in her words, and she saw Santana weigh up the question in her mind.

"Honestly? I don't know. The end, I think. I wouldn't want to… not know what it was like to wake up next to you in the morning; but at the same time maybe it's for the best it ended where it did."

"Yeah. That's what I've been telling myself, too." Their eyes met, the first moment of open honesty that they'd perhaps ever truly shared, and it made Quinn feel slightly better. Her anger had dissipated, at least.

"Can we just… Can we just be friends again?" Santana's voice cracked, the tiniest amount – but Quinn heard it, and it made her heart ache, painfully.

"We always were, Santana," she murmured, voice gentle. "Friends fight."

"Friends don't have sex."

"Well, some do. I believe the term for that is 'friends with benefits'."

"Is that what you want?" Quinn's mouth opened slightly in shock, not entirely sure what the brunette wanted to hear her say – so instead she said what first came to mind.

"I don't think so. Maybe we should just… let whatever happens, happen."

"So, if sex happens it's supposed to?"

"Yeah, sure, we'll go with that." They shared a rare, genuine smile, across the back of the couch, and Santana bounded over the back of it in one smooth movement, her arms pulling the blonde into a tight hug.

"I missed you." It was a quiet admission, into her ear, and she smiled again, breathing in the scent that belonged solely to Santana and letting her eyes flutter closed, content to just enjoy the moment, just for a second.

"Yeah, I missed you, too. Wanna watch a movie?"

x-x-x

Quinn didn't remember falling asleep, but she was woken up by loud giggling and the sound of the door grating open and then shut again – then the lights were thrown on and she groaned, blinking sleepily at the brightness, trying to adjust as she turned a glare towards the three sheepish NYADA students traipsing towards her.

"I want to kill them." The mumble came from somewhere underneath her chin, and she was fairly unsurprised to see that she and Santana had managed to find themselves cuddling at some point in the evening. The brunette's legs were tangled with her own, and an arm was thrown across the blonde's waist, with Quinn's own looped loosely around Santana's hips.

"That's not very nice, Santana!" Rachel's voice was loud, which meant that she was drunk, and Quinn squinted upwards to see that the three of them were standing nearby, looking at her and Santana with various degrees of curiosity. "You two made up!"

"Mhm." That's about all Quinn managed to say because she was still half asleep, and she wondered absently what time it was.

"Yay!" It was accompanied by a jump as the brunette clapped her hands together, and Quinn felt Santana tense up in annoyance. "I'm so _happy_ for you guys."

"Berry." That was a growl, and Quinn glanced down to see that Santana was half-upright, glaring at Rachel with what Quinn knew was her 'I will fuck you up' face. "If you don't shut the fuck up and leave this room, _I will kill you_."

"Santana, that's not very – ah!" Rachel cut off with a scream as Santana snarled and leapt from the couch in one fluid movement, launching herself at the smaller brunette with intent, and leaving the other three stunned as Rachel attempted to outrun the Latina.

When Santana managed to catch Rachel's wrist and drag her backwards towards her, Quinn decided that someone should really intervene because otherwise it wouldn't end well, and she dragged herself to her feet wearily.

"Santana!" Rachel squeaked in indignation as she tried to wriggle away from the taller woman, who had her by the upper arms in what looked like a tight hold. "Stop - "

"I warned you!" Santana hissed, and Quinn wondered, idly, as she approached the pair of them warily, Brody doing the same to her left as Kurt just watched, open-mouthed, if this has been building since the day Santana moved in. If so, then she's glad she's here to witness it, because the look on Rachel's face is kind of hilarious, if you, you know, disregarded the fact that her life was in probable mortal danger.

"Uh, S, maybe you should let her go, yeah?" Quinn called when she was behind the Latina, Brody behind Rachel and looking mildly concerned for his girlfriend's welfare.

"Fuck no."

"Santana - " Brody sprang forward and whisked Rachel out of Santana's grip, cutting off the blonde's words as she surged forward to seize Santana's wrist as she made to lunge after the couple, who backed away until they were practically against the door. "_Stop it_," Quinn hissed as the brunette struggled underneath her hold.

"Well, this is certainly entertaining," Kurt murmured from where he was stood still, watching the four of them with mild amusement. Quinn hesitantly let go of Santana's wrist, but when she made to surge towards Rachel once more, she grabbed her again and yanked her back, the movement sending the blonde slamming into the back of the couch, trapped between that and Santana's lithe form.

"You know, Q, if you wanted me pushed up against you, you could have just asked." Santana's tone was light, teasing, laced with none of the bite that she would have expected from a comment like that a few weeks ago.

"I'll keep that in mind the next time I have the urge," she murmured back, her voice a little breathier than she'd intended, unable to be unaffected by the brunette pressed so tight against her.

"Yeah, I hope so."

"I hate to interrupt," Kurt cut in, and Quinn turned a little guiltily to meet his gaze, noticing that Rachel and Brody were already slinking into her bedroom, taking advantage of Santana's distraction. "But we're going to bed. See you guys in the morning."

"Night," they both echoed, and soon enough they were alone, still standing much closer than the situation really called for but neither wanting to move much.

"We should probably get some sleep too considering they wake up for earlier than normal human beings."

"Well, they're not normal."

"You should be nice, they're your roommates."

"Doesn't mean I have to like them," the brunette muttered, darkly, but Quinn knew she didn't really mean it. Sure, she'd been pretty serious about kicking Rachel's ass just now, but Quinn had a feeling that that was more likely due to the fact that she'd walked in on the two of them in a slightly compromising position – she'd seen the glint of affection in Santana's eyes when she was around the others, heard it in her voice sometimes when she spoke about them on the phone, and had a feeling that secretly, Santana loved living her much more than she'd ever admit.

"Do you have a blanket or something I can borrow?" Quinn asked as Santana moved away from the blonde, heading towards her room – at her words, the brunette turned around and cocked her head to one side, confused.

"Why?"

"Because otherwise I'm gonna get pretty cold." She nodded towards the couch, where she'd spent most of her Christmas break sleeping on – it really wasn't as uncomfortable as Brody had made out.

"You're not sleeping on _that_."

"Well, where else am I going to sleep?" She asked, already knowing the answer but unsure if she wanted to hear what came next or not.

"With me," Santana replied, simply, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Quinn's lips pursed in thought, because really, that had the potential to be a really bad idea. "Don't look at me like that, I'm sure we're perfectly capable of sleeping in the same bed without anything happening, Q. What happened to 'whatever happens, happens'?"

"Still…"

"Look, either way I'm not letting you sleep on that couch – so either you take my bed with me in it, or not. Up to you."

"I'm not kicking you out of your own bed, S."

"Well, that's settled then. Come on." With a soft, defeated sigh, Quinn trailed after Santana, picking up her bag on the way, grabbing her pyjamas out of it before turning to get changed into the bathroom.

When she came out, Santana was stood leaning beside the door, waiting, in the tiniest pair of shorts that Quinn had ever seen. She tried to force her eyes away, but judging from the slight smirk on Santana's lips as she brushed past the blonde and into the bathroom, she wasn't very successful.

She curled up on the left of the bed, knowing from countless sleepovers that Santana preferred the right, and shivered slightly, even under the heap of covers – it was _cold_, without the heat of another person pressed into her side.

Santana took so long that she was half-asleep by the time they brunette clambered into the double bed beside her, and she murmured a sleepy protest as some of the covers were tugged away from her.

"No, you took too long, you don't get covers," she mumbled, curling up into a smaller ball and revelling in the low chuckle from behind her.

"Sorry, but I always feel gross after spending hours working in a sweaty bar; I needed a shower, and I figured you'd want me to have one too, before I got into bed with you."

"And yet you had no problem cuddling up to me before."

"That was while I was sleeping, and not my fault."

"So you admit that you _do _cuddle." Quinn's eyes were closed, but she imagined that there was a soft smile on Santana's face at their exchange – it felt easy, almost like things had been before.

"I admit no such thing." The blonde heard shifting from behind her, and then felt the heat of Santana's body at her back, just far away enough so that though she could feel it, they weren't actually touching. "Go to sleep, Q," the brunette whispered softly, and her breath brushed against the blonde's ear as she leant quickly forward and pressed a soft, but lingering, kiss to Quinn's cheek.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **

**I'm so sorry this took so long, I've been slammed with uni work for the past three weeks and only just getting some breathing space. Hope this chapter's worth the wait. **

* * *

"It's eleven o' clock, Santana, I think she's slept enough." Rachel's voice was the first thing Quinn heard the next morning, as she was beginning to wake up, in that state where she was still half asleep but aware of what was going on around her.

"Berry - " Santana started, her voice close to the blonde – she could feel Santana's side against her back, her hip pressing lightly against the blonde's spine.

"I thought we agreed that while you're staying here you wouldn't refer to by my last name."

"Oh, I never agreed to that, I just nodded to get you to shut the fuck up."

"Do you two bicker every morning?" Quinn spoke up, her voice husky from sleep, and she blinked her eyes open to see Rachel stood with her arms across her chest, an apron around her waist that managed to look ridiculous and cute at the same time.

"You woke her up!" Santana called accusingly, sounding far more upset than the situation called for, and Quinn saw Rachel open her mouth to say something but then she stopped, frowning, and glanced between the two of them carefully.

"It's fine, S, I should probably be up anyway." She pushed herself into a sitting position and covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she yawned.

"See, I _told _you," Rachel said, smugly, but she quickly retreated when Santana launched a pillow in her general direction – it narrowly avoided hitting her square in the face. "Uncalled for!" The brunette hissed before spinning on her heel and stalking away, leaving Quinn alone with a cackling Santana.

"Seriously, do you two always argue like this?"

"Only every other day. That's all we're allowed, otherwise Kurt gets mad and steals all my hair products." Quinn couldn't decide if Santana was joking or not, but judging from the unusually serious look on her face, she decided that she wasn't.

"Well I need a shower to wake myself up."

"Want company?" _That _was a joke, but there was a sparkle in the brunette's eyes as they met the blonde's that made Quinn forget how to breathe, just for a second.

"Ignoring that," she deigned to respond with as she climbed from the warm cocoon of the bed, shivering as her bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor. "Got a towel I can borrow?"

"Mm, I suppose so." Santana jumped nimbly out from under the covers and sauntered over to the closet and pulled out two fluffy towels, handing them to the blonde wordlessly.

"Thank you." She grabbed the bag with her shampoo and stuff in and made her way to the bathroom, murmuring a soft greeting to Kurt, Rachel and Brody where they sat in the kitchen. She flicked the lock of the bathroom door shut as soon as she was inside and flipped the shower on, stripping off her clothes as quickly as possible as soon as the water was hot enough and jumping under the spray, letting out a grateful sigh at the welcome warmth.

She spent longer in there than she perhaps would have normally, and afterwards she slid the door open and slipped through the crack, her clothes clutched tightly in one hand and towel firmly wrapped around her body for the dash back to Santana's room.

"Oh, thank God, I thought you'd died." Santana's drawl stopped her in her tracks, and she turned to make a face at the brunette, who was lounging on the couch beside Kurt. "Weren't doing anything unsavoury in our shower, were you, Q?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She replied loftily before turned and disappearing behind the purple curtains, hearing Santana's approving whistle behind her.

She didn't bother drying her hair, just dressed quickly and hung up the towels to dry before joining the others in the living room, accepting the toast and water that Santana handed her without a word, even though she was surprised.

"So," Rachel began once the blonde had finished – she was curled up with Brody on the two seater that she'd been so rudely kicked off of last night. "What do you want to do today?"

"I don't mind, whatever you guys wanna do."

"Well, Kurt and I have to go to NYADA briefly to pick up an audition piece, so you can come with us if you want? It won't take long."

"Sure. I'd love to see the place that apparently only has one room." Santana nudged her playfully at that, and she grinned. "Are you working today?" She asked the brunette beside her, who nodded solemnly.

"Yeah. Start at two and finish at ten, so I'll be back soon enough to rescue you from these losers." Quinn saw Rachel, Kurt and Brody roll their eyes dramatically at that, and smothered a laugh.

"Well, as lovely as it is to sit here and be insulted, we have places to be. You ready, Quinn?" Rachel rose fluidly to fluidly to her feet after pressing a brief kiss to Brody's lips, and the blonde nodded, scrambling upright as Kurt did the same.

"See you later, Q," Santana called as the three of them were leaving, after the blonde had shoved some shoes and a coat on and pulled her damp hair back into a messy ponytail.

"Bye, S. Brody." He waved as they pulled the door shut behind them, and before they'd barely gone three steps Rachel practically pounced on the blonde, grabbing at her wrist in excitement.

"What happened between you two last night?!"

"What?" The blonde replied, her eyebrows creasing into a frown, confused. "Nothing happened. What are you talking about?"

"You looked awfully cosy when we came back. _And _you slept together."

"I can assure you that sleeping was all that took place," Quinn answered, dryly, as they made their way into the street outside.

"But you figured stuff out?"

"Uh, kinda?"

"But it's obvious that she likes you! She flipped out at me when I started my daily singing routine, and told me to 'shut the fuck up or she'd lynch me' – _she _was already awake; she just wanted to make sure you slept in, _and _she cooked you breakfast!"

"I'd hardly call toast breakfast, Rach." Quinn shoved her hands into her pockets to keep them warm as they arrived at the nearby subway station, descending the steps quickly and hoping that underground, out of the chill of the wind, would offer slightly more warmth.

"She does really care about you, though, Quinn." Kurt spoke up for the first time, face earnest as he spoke, catching the blonde's eye. "Believe or not, she's actually been almost pleasant to live with since you arrived."

"I've only been here for a day, don't be ridiculous."

"Uh, _we're _not the ones being ridiculous. She _likes _you!" Rachel insisted, her arm lopped through the blonde's as she led her towards the platform they needed.

"Even if she does, Rach, it's not that simple."

"Why?"

"Have you seen the two of us when we're together? _That's _why." The subway arrived miraculously quickly, and their conversation was cut short as they had to fan out to find somewhere to stand. Unfortunately, Rachel was ready with a reply as soon as they arrived at their stop and jumped off.

"But shouldn't you give it a chance, at least?"

"Okay, if I promise to think about it and maybe talk to Santana about it, will _you_ stop talking about it?"

"Hmph. I guess. For now."

"Thank you." She pulled the brunette towards her for a brief hug.

"Leave me out, then, it's fine," Kurt sighed dramatically, so they both leapt on him, one on either side. "Okay, okay, I take it back! Let me go!" All three of them were laughing as they reached the top of the steps to make their way onto the street above.

NYADA rose in-front of them, taking up the width of at least three buildings, beautiful in the way that most old, intricately carved buildings were, and the blonde took in the sight for a minute before following the two attendee's up the steps and into the much more modern interior.

"What are you guys auditioning for, anyway?" The blonde asked as she was led through various hallways, and up two flights of stairs, catching occasional glimpses into classrooms, lecture theatres and dance studios, and once even a recording studio that she caught Rachel glancing at a little longingly.

"They put on three showcases at the end of the school year –one for each year, so we're trying out, figure it's good experience," Kurt explained, and Quinn nodded thoughtfully. Yale put on a couple of shows per year, but she'd never had the guts to try out.

"Yeah, definitely." They stopped outside of what looked like a staffroom, and thought they both said she could follow them in she declined, choosing instead to wait outside, her attention caught by the multitude of different flyers that lined the noticeboards outside.

"Trying out?" A voice, laced with an English accent, called out, and she jumped, surprised, turning to see a guy that looked a couple of years older than her. He came to a stop beside her and inclined his head to where her gaze had stopped, on a flyer advertising rehearsals for the revival of Funny Girl.

"Uh, no, definitely not. I actually don't even go here, I'm just waiting for some friends," she replied with a nod towards the door that Kurt and Rachel had disappeared through.

"Ah, ok, then. But you don't have to come here to audition."

"No, but I'm pretty sure living in New York would be a requirement." She flashed him a grin, relaxing into the easy conversation.

"Where are you from, then? And I'm Adam, by the way."

"Quinn. And Ohio, originally, but I go to Yale now so live in New Haven."

"Wow, Yale? Impressive. I actually have a friend from Ohio, where abouts?" She was about to reply when the door behind them opened and Kurt and Rachel stepped out, both holding a piece of paper in their hand as if it were the Holy Grail. "Kurt!"

Kurt's eyes lifted in surprise, and his eyes flashed in recognition as his eyes met Adam's, and then in confusion as he noticed Quinn stood beside him. "You two know each other?" The blonde asked.

"Yeah, he's the friend from Ohio. I'm guessing he's who you're visiting."

"You'd guess correctly." Quinn could tell from the look on Adam's face as his eyes met Kurt's that there was something there, so she took a few steps forward until she was beside Rachel, letting the other two catch up.

"I thought he was still hung up on Blaine?" Quinn whispered once she was out of ear-shot, and Rachel merely shrugged, a little helplessly.

"I don't know. But he's nice, so…" She shrugged again, and the topic was abandoned when Kurt re-joined them, Adam just behind him.

"You guys don't mind if we have an extra companion for the rest of the day, do you?"

"Not at all," the two women replied in unison, and they were leaving NYADA soon after, the blonde still trying to peek behind closed doors, fascinated by the idea of a college life that involved more dance routines than it did lectures.

They decided, after some discussion, to head for lunch before going to chill out in Central Park for a while, considering it was actually a pretty nice day out; the temperature was just starting to warm up, and the sky was unusually cloudless for this time of year.

"So, what are you guys doing tonight?" Adam asked as they were making their way back to the apartment, many hours later. Quinn had had a pretty good time – it was good to be back around Rachel and Kurt again, and Adam was really nice, too. She was growing to love Yale, now that she was fitting in a little more – but it couldn't compare to how she felt when she was in New York, not really. Somehow, it almost felt like home.

"Nothing, I don't think. Why?" Rachel was the one who answered, as they came to a stop at the top of the steps that led down to the subway station they'd walked to – Quinn understood that Adam lived around here, so they'd be parting ways soon.

"I'm going out tonight with a few friends, I was just wondering if you wanted to join us?"

"I'd love to, Adam, but I went out last night and got a _little _bit too drunk; I don't really feel up for it tonight. I'm sure Kurt would love to go, though." She nudged her roommate forward, and he turned to glare at the brunette, just out of sight of Adam, and Quinn muffled a laugh as she watched them.

"I… Uh, yeah, sure. Sounds like fun."

"Great! I'll swing by your place, then? So you don't get lost? About…Nine?""

"Okay, yeah. I'll see you then." Kurt smiled and hugged the other guy goodbye, and then as soon as he was gone he rounded on Rachel. "What are you _doing_?!"

"You got a date! A _date _Kurt, yay!"

"I'd hardly call an evening of copious alcohol consumption a date, Rachel." He replied as they made their way down the steps. "Would you, Quinn?"

"Oh, nu-uh. I am not getting involved in this – I'm impartial." She held out her hands in front of her in mock surrender, ignoring the looks the pair of them shot her.

"Oh, come on, Kurt, you like him – give him a shot!" Kurt mumbled something under his breath in response that Quinn didn't quite catch. "You can't deny that you haven't had fun today."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that I will tonight!"

x-x-x

"Aww, you look adorable."

"I hate you, Rachel Berry." Quinn stifled a laugh at the look on Kurt's face as he stood in-front of his full-length mirror in his room. Rachel stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders, having picked out his outfit for that night, despite Kurt's insistences that he could do it himself.

"No, you don't. I got you this date; you love me." The buzzer rang as if on cue, and Quinn patted Kurt's shoulder sympathetically as he passed her on the way to answer it.

"You'll be fine," she reassured him, noticing his nerves and knowing how terrified she'd be if she was in his position – she could barely even remember the last first date she'd been on.

"Thanks, Quinn." He flashed her a brief smile before answering the intercom with a 'be right there', and then disappearing through the door, leaving Rachel and Quinn alone in the apartment – they still had an hour before Santana's shift ended, and Brody was out with some friends watching some form of sporting event, and wouldn't be back until the following day.

"Home alone!" Rachel called as she fell backwards onto the couch with a relieved sigh, her legs dangling over the edge. "What d'you wanna do?"

"I don't mind. What do you usually do when no-one else is around?"

"Well, _usually _I walk around naked, but seeing as you're here…" Catching a glance of the blonde's face as she perched on the empty sofa, the brunette laughed. "I'm kidding, Quinn. _Honestly_. We could watch a movie? I could use this opportunity to further your musical education."

"Sure," the blonde replied, because she actually didn't mind the movies the brunette kept telling her to watch – she enjoyed them, not that she'd ever really admit that to her. "Whatever you want."

"Oh, I'll make popcorn!"

"I thought you weren't allowed to use the microwave," Quinn called as the brunette bounded to her feet, smirking a little as she recalled the dramatic re-telling that Kurt had done over the winter break of the time that Rachel had nearly put metal in the microwave and blown them all up.

"That is - "

"Tell you what," the blonde interrupted, also climbing to her feet and side-stepping the brunette to get to the kitchen first. "_I'll _make the popcorn, and you can decide what movie we watch."

"I messed up one time! _One_! Do I not get a second chance?" Rachel pouted, which only made Quinn's grin widen as she grabbed a bag of ready-made popcorn and shoved it in the microwave to heat up.

"Not when your 'messing up' nearly blew apart the apartment."

"That was a gross over-exaggeration," the brunette muttered under her breath as she turned away and busied herself with trying to find a movie that Quinn had not yet seen. By the time the blonde had emptied the popcorn into a bowl and perched next to the brunette on the couch, the bowl between them, the DVD was set up ready to go.

"What one is it this time?"

"It's a surprise."

"You do realise that the title's going to come up within like the first minute of the film, right?" The blonde asked as the brunette hit play, watching as Rachel's lips pursed in thought.

"Close your eyes, then."

"But that's no fun!" The blonde dodged the brunette's hand as she tried to cover Quinn's eyes, glancing towards the screen just in time to see _Chicago _flash across the screen.

"We watched this last time I was here, you know," the blonde pointed out, getting comfortable on the couch and curling her legs up under her and stealing a handful of popcorn.

"I know, but I like it," the brunette shrugged. "Besides, I know you like it, too, don't deny it. I caught you humming 'all that jazz' the day after we watched it."

"It's a catchy song!"

"Uh-huh."

"You were the one that put on that completely over-sexualised show for your dance teacher to it; I think you like it a little more than I do," Quinn teased, having the satisfaction of seeing the brunette blush.

"It was _not _over-sexualised!"

"Oh, please, Brody recorded it and sent it to me, it was, trust me."

"He did _not_."

"Uh, yeah, he did."

"That _bastard_," Rachel muttered under her breath and Quinn laughed, feeling a little sorry for Brody – he was sure to get a talking to later on, and it would be her fault, but she couldn't really bring herself to feel bad about.

The brunette soon became distracted with watching the movie and their conversation stalled, Quinn happy to watch too, and to have the chance to relax after what felt like a pretty non-stop day – not that she was complaining, not at all.

When the door scraped open half-way through _Cell Block Tango_, Rachel threw a glare over the back of the couch towards the intruder – Santana paused in the doorway, hands outstretched in a gesture of peace.

She looked exhausted, which Quinn could understand – bar work wasn't exactly the most relaxing of jobs, after all. But the brunette's face still lit up with a smile when her eyes met Quinn's, and the blonde could only smile back, sure that she didn't look as radiant as the Latina managed to, even after an eight hour shift.

Santana wordlessly curled up in the tiny space beside Quinn, draping herself across the blonde when she made a grab for the popcorn bowl. The blonde froze, the scent of the brunette's perfume and shampoo, mixed with a slight hint of sweat, reminding her of the two nights they'd spent together – she didn't realise that she'd stopped breathing until the brunette had straightened up, popcorn in hand.

"What are we watching?" She asked, loudly, after a few minutes, clearly growing bored with the lack of conversation. Rachel turned to glare at her once more.

"Be _quiet_."

"I was being. Come on, don't act like you haven't seen this a hundred times. You can probably quote the whole fucking movie."

"That is not the _point_, Santana."

"Don't really care what the point is, to be honest," Santana snarked right back, and Quinn couldn't decide if she should be amused or concerned that this could turn into something much more confrontational before the night's end, and she was the only one around to break it up. "Where's Lady Hummel?"

"_Kurt_," Rachel stressed, making Santana roll her eyes dramatically. "Has a date."

"No fucking way."

"Yes fucking way." Santana actually looked impressed that the other brunette would swear, but it quickly passed.

"And where's Ken doll?"

"_Brody _is out." Rachel hit pause on the remote, gritting her teeth, and Quinn wondered how close the brunette was to kicking Santana to the curb – she thought that, perhaps, had it not been for the blonde, she would have done it already. "I'm going for a shower." She stalked from the room, leaving the blonde and the brunette alone, and Santana sighed, heavily.

"She is _impossible _to live with."

"_She_ is? Are you serious?" The brunette looked affronted, and Quinn rolled her eyes this time. "You've got to be kidding me – S, they invited you into their home because you had nowhere else to go, and you repay them by insulting them twenty-four seven."

"But - "

"No, no buts. Get off your ass and go and apologise to her."

"But - "

"_Santana_." Their eyes locked in a furious battle of wills – and Quinn won, Santana's gaze breaking first. Soon after she stood, muttering under her breath something that the blonde was sure wasn't complementary, before trailing after Rachel.

After about a minute the blonde heard raised voices and rose to her feet with a groan, quickly crossing to where Rachel's 'room' lay – but she froze when she heard her name mentioned, knowing that eavesdropping was a really bad idea, but unable to find the will to resist it.

"It's none of your fucking business, Berry - " Santana was saying, furious, and Quinn could just about see her outline through the thin curtains, standing close to the shorter brunette, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Uh, actually, Santana, it _is_ – she's my friend, I care about her. So why don't you just think for a fucking second about what the hell you're doing with her, before you hurt her any more than you already have." Rachel sounded equally as furious, which Quinn could barely believe; sure, the brunette was a bit of a diva, but she'd never had much of a temper, and certainly never one that could match Santana's.

"Stay out of it, Berry. Quinn's a big girl, she can think for herself."

"Not when it comes to you." Quinn's heart was beating rapidly in her chest, knowing it wouldn't do for her to be discovered like this, and even though her mind was racing she forced herself to step forward, clearing her throat loudly.

"You two aren't killing each other in here, are you?" She managed, somehow, to keep her voice level as she closed the final few steps, parting the curtains that served as Rachel's bedroom door and stepping over the threshold.

Rachel and Santana both still looked furious, but they took a step back from each other at the blonde's arrival. Santana's jaw was set, and the brief glimpse Quinn saw of her eyes before she turned away told the blonde that she was hurt.

"We're fine." But Rachel's smile was fake, contradicting her words. "I really do need that shower…" It was a clear dismissal, and both women were happy to acknowledge it, quickly turning tail and returning to the couch in silence.

"How much of that did you hear?" Santana asked after a few minutes, voice soft, and Quinn wiped all trace of surprise off of her face as she lifted her eyes to meet stormy brown, forcing a confused expression across her face.

"What? What are you talking about? I didn't hear anything." Santana held her gaze for a long time, examining her eyes with such abject scrutiny that it almost made Quinn feel more exposed than when she had been naked before the brunette.

"You're lying." It was a murmur, after the Latina had looked away – this time, Quinn didn't deny it. "Tomorrow, can we… can we do something? Just the two of us?" The abrupt change of subject threw the blonde for a second, and Santana took her pause as a bad sign. "You know what, never mind - "

"Yes, you idiot, we can do something tomorrow," the blonde cut her off, trying not to roll her eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea that she would ever pass up the opportunity to spend time with her best friend. "But why?"

"I feel like I haven't seen you properly this weekend," the brunette shrugged, purposely avoiding the blonde's gaze. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too," she replied softly, thinking that she'd never said something so honest in a very long time – she missed Santana, achingly so, with her every breath, even when the brunette was right in-front of her. She was fairly sure that she knew what that feeling meant, a thought so terrifying that she refused to even entertain it, but that didn't stop it from being true. "How was work?" She asked, just to change the subject.

They were still talking idly when Rachel re-appeared a while later, her hair still wet and dressed in pyjamas, ready for bed. "Hey," she called as she leant against the side of the two seater sofa. "Brody just texted to say he isn't coming home tonight, so you can stay with me, Quinn, if you want – saves you from sleeping on the couch."

"You know perfectly well she didn't sleep on the couch last night," Santana replied, voice clipped, a slightly dangerous note to her tone that Quinn was fairly sure was a really, really bad sign. Rachel, however, chose to ignore it – well, to ignore the brunette completely, actually.

"Quinn?"

"I…" The blonde trailed off, not liking being put on the spot one bit – Santana was looking at her with a guarded, but hopeful, expression, while Rachel was expectant.

"Please? I hate sleeping alone." The blonde saw Santana's mouth open, no doubt ready with a scathing remark, so she jumped in quickly before the brunette could speak.

"Sure, Rach."

"Yay!" The diva beamed, and Quinn avoiding the other brunette's eyes. "We can watch the end of the movie on my laptop," she decided, grabbing the disk before skipping towards her room. "Don't take too long!"

"What are you doing?" Santana asked as soon as she'd gone, a slight note of betrayal in her voice.

"Honestly? No idea anymore," she muttered, under her breath, but she guessed from the slight twitch in Santana's cheek that her comment was heard. "Look, we have tomorrow, yeah? So, I can spend tonight with Rach and tomorrow with you." She saw the brunette's jaw clench in response to her wording and she rolled her eyes. "If you are seriously jealous of Rachel right not then you need to re-evaluate your life," she sighed, climbing to her feet. "Night, S."

x-x-x

Rachel Berry was not an easy sleeper, Quinn discovered after just an hour of trying to sleep beside her. She fidgeted, switching positions every few minutes, and it was driving the blonde mad, much as she loved the shorter woman. But after an hour of trying to sleep beside the brunette's tossing and turning, she needed a break, and slipped quietly out from underneath the covers, padding towards the kitchen.

Santana was still up, Quinn saw with surprise – she was sat on the kitchen counter, tapping her feet against the cupboard beneath her as she waited for the toaster beside her. "You didn't last long in there," the brunette murmured as the blonde approached her. "Berry's skills not up to snuff?"

"You're ridiculous," the blonde replied, moving past the brunette to grab a much needed bottle of water from the fridge. When she turned back around Santana had leapt down from the countertop and was directly behind her, so close that she could feel the brunette's breath against her lips. She forced herself to take a step backwards, her unable to stop her gaze flickering down to Santana's mouth, so close to her own – but the brunette followed her, effectively trapping her between her warm body and the cool counter at her back.

"W-what, what are you doing?" Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper, as tanned hands rested on either side of her hips, curling around the marble as Santana leant closer – Quinn's breath caught in her throat, and she could feel her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

"She said that you couldn't think for yourself when it came to me, but she was wrong." It was a whisper, the brunette's lips practically brushing against the blonde's with every word, and there was a desperation to her voice. "She was _wrong_. It's me who can't think straight when it comes to you."

Their lips met, then – it was the briefest of touches, little more than a gentle caress, but it still sent a spark through the blonde's body, and a shiver wracked through her body, even though she was far from cold, with the way the brunette was pressed so intimately against her.

"Have you been drinking?" She asked, pulling back, just slightly, when she recognised the taste of tequila on her lips.

"Does it matter?"

_Yes_. But that was only in her head. Aloud, she said nothing – only curled one of her hands in Santana's thick hair and pulled their mouths together again, her lips desperately moving against the brunette's. Maybe she was selfish, to be doing this while Santana was drunk and she was sober; maybe she should be being responsible.

But at the gasp, quickly followed by a moan, that escaped Santana's mouth as the blonde's tongue slipped past the brunette's lips, all thoughts of responsibility fled the blonde's mind – there was only Santana, and nothing else.

Strong hands lifted her onto the counter, and she opened her legs to allow the brunette to step between them, quickly wrapping her thighs around Santana's waist, trapping her in place as hot lips left her mouth to move down the blonde's neck, pausing to suck lightly at the spot just beneath her ear that never failed to make her eyes roll – Quinn bit down on her lip, hard, to avoid the loud moan that threatened to spill from her lips, all too aware of the sleeping brunette that lay just a few feet away from them.

Her hands tightened in dark hair, tugging the brunette's head back up so they could kiss again – it was messy, their teeth clashing in their desire to be as close as possible, and that time Quinn couldn't stop a moan as a hand danced lightly up her thigh, nails digging in with just enough pressure to cause pleasurable pain, and when that hand moved higher to cup her sex over the thin shorts she was wearing, her head fell back against the wall behind her, a soft gasp echoing in the air.

Their eyes met, again, and she saw her own desire reflected right back at her in Santana's dark gaze, and she wondered how they could ever think that there was nothing between them – that they could manage to be just friends without things like _this _happening whenever they were alone. They'd opened a can of worms, that night, it seemed – but Quinn was more than happy to let this particular one stay open for as long as possible. It was worth the weeks of torturous silence, for this, for the feeling of Santana's hot mouth devouring her own, to be able to see the brunette come completely undone – it was all worth it.

Just as their lips were about to meet in another fiery kiss, the front door opened, and they sprang apart quickly – Santana propelling herself backwards so that she was leaning against the opposite countertop, and Quinn hopped down quickly, grabbing her abandoned bottle of water and taking a hasty sip and trying to act nonchalant as Kurt and Adam stumbled through the open doorway, holding hands. They paused when they saw that people were up, and Kurt frowned at them, looking confused.

"Is something burning?"

"_Shit_!" Santana leapt forward suddenly towards the toaster, slamming the switch off hastily, and it was only then that Quinn noticed the unmistakable smell of burning food permeating the whole room – apparently she'd been too preoccupied losing herself in the brunette's touch to notice before.

"I think you left it in for too long," Kurt pointed out, helpfully, as Santana pulled two pieces of extremely blackened toast out from the machine, distastefully dropping them into the trash as Quinn tried not to laugh.

"What the _hell _is going on out here?" The sleepy, but irate, voice came from the direction of Rachel's bedroom, and sure enough, the brunette was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, glaring at the four of them.

"Santana's trying to burn the place down, that's what," Kurt answered, but Rachel's eyes weren't on him – they were on Quinn's face, and the blonde was intensely glad for the dark lighting where she was stood, for she knew her face was flushed, and also knew that it wouldn't take much for Rachel to deduce what had been happening just a few moments before.

"I was not," the brunette replied sullenly, but Quinn didn't think that anyone was really listening.

"Did you guys have a good time?" Rachel asked, breaking the silence as she looked meaningfully at Kurt and Adam's clasped hands. Kurt nodded, a shy smile on his face, and Quinn was happy for him – he deserved it, after what had happened with Blaine. "I'm going back to bed, unless you're planning on more late-night cooking to set us all alight, Santana?"

Quinn heard the brunette's teeth grind in annoyance, but she didn't speak, for which the blonde was grateful. Kurt and Adam soon disappeared into their own room, and the blonde decided to return to Rachel's bed when the brunette turned away and disappeared back inside - she didn't really trust herself to sleep beside Santana when her heart was racing so badly. She glanced back, once, just before she crossed the threshold of what classed as Rachel's room, to see dark eyes watching her consideringly.

"Are you going to tell me what was happening back there?" Rachel asked as the blonde settled back into the bed, and Quinn pointedly avoided the smaller woman's gaze, turning her back on her.

"Trust me when I say that you really don't want to know."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:**

**This is the long promised Santana POV chapter - hopefully it'll clear a few things up, and hopefully y'all like the POV change 'cause there'll be a couple more from Santana before this story's done. Enjoy.**

* * *

"Is anybody home?" Rachel's voice called through the apartment, loudly, and Santana groaned, shoving her pillow over her face and wondering if she could successfully smother herself with it before Rachel came snooping to see if she was there.

She couldn't, she discovered, because when her curtains whooshed open she was still very much alive, and with a sigh she pushed the pillow away and shoved herself forward so that she was sat cross legged on her bed.

"You know one of these days, when you come barging in, I'll be in a really compromising position and you'll regret it." Rachel stood framed in the sunlight shining through the window behind her, making her look like a really tiny and annoying angel.

"Well I can't exactly knock," the smaller brunette countered, dryly, her hands moving to rest on her hips. "Are you working tonight?"

"Why?" Santana asked, stretching her arms out in-front of her before moving so that she was sat cross-legged in the centre of the bed. She was exhausted, having only managed to snatch a fitful three hours of sleep the previous night, after a twelve hour shift at work the previous day.

And the source of her sleepness nights?

Quinn _fucking _Fabray.

"Because Kurt and I are going to something at Vogue tonight and I was wondering whether you wanted to come with," Rachel shrugged, and Santana fought the urge to roll her eyes because it did _not _sound like her idea of a good time – but, she supposed, it had probably taken a lot for the other woman to even ask her in the first place.

"Oh, well, I am working, so…" She shrugged, wondering how she'd managed to make things awkward. "Sorry."

"That's okay. I'm, uh, going to go do some work, I'll speak to you later." Santana merely nodded, un-used to this routine, of being nice – usually they were spitting insults at each other, if they even spoke at all.

There was only one reason for her change in attitude towards the brunette, and she was sure that it was the same reason that Rachel was making more of an effort, too, and that reason was also Quinn Fabray.

"_Please try and be nicer to her, S, I think you could be really good friends if you tried. And don't be mad at her for today, either." _

It had been murmured into her ear as the blonde had hugged her goodbye at Grand Central Station, and it was only because of her that Rachel was still alive right now – because the Latina had been _furious _at the smaller woman that Sunday, perhaps the angriest she'd ever felt in her entire life, because she'd wrecked the perfect day she'd planned.

She knew why Rachel had done it, too – because she knew that, the night before, that she and Quinn had almost gotten down in dirty in her kitchen, and she thought that Quinn couldn't handle that, which Santana was sure was just about the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

But, apparently that was Rachel believed and that had meant that the brunette had stuck to the blonde's side all day, had gone out of her way to ensure that Santana never got a second alone with her friend, would barely even let them speak to one another.

She'd had the perfect plan – she'd been planning on taking the blonde to one of those crappy art museums that Santana hated but Quinn loved, because even though it'd be the most boring afternoon in the history of _ever_, at least she'd get to see Quinn happy, which was something that she didn't get to see so often, these days.

And that was entirely her own fault, for not being able to keep it in her pants, but she couldn't _help _it.

Quinn Fabray, since the day that Santana had first laid eyes on her, on their first day of high school, had always been someone that she'd admired – though she'd never let the blonde know that. At first, it had been simple fellow HBIC admiration, but at some point it had changed to… something else entirely.

But there was no way that Miss perfect-Christian-virgin would ever reciprocate anything that Santana may have felt, so she'd quickly moved on to someone else – and that someone had just so happened to be Brittany S Pierce.

That wasn't to say that Brittany had been her second choice, not at all. More like, she'd never really noticed Britt until she'd stopped thinking about Quinn, but when she had, God, she'd fallen hard, hard and fast, until she was in so deep that she didn't think she'd ever be able to fight her way back to the surface ever again.

And then it had ended, and she was crushed, and Quinn – Quinn had been the one to pick up the pieces of her shattered soul, and so painstakingly put her back together again. That week in New Haven had been exactly what she'd needed, and, inevitably, being cooped up with the blonde with no-one else to distract her had, of course, led to the re-surfacing of old feelings.

And Santana, being Santana, had bitten that back with defensive remarks, lashing out at the blonde whenever she felt close to her – because that was the only way she knew how to protect herself from falling again.

Only it hadn't worked, not really, because now here she was, the memory of what Quinn looked like when she came scorched onto the back of her eyelids whenever she closed her eyes, the blonde's face haunting her dreams at night; on her mind every second that she was awake.

She was inescapable.

And everyone thought that _she _was the one that was going to hurt _Quinn_, that she didn't feel anything aside from a mild attraction to the blonde, and only when she was drunk at that, but that couldn't be farther from the truth – and who did she have to talk about any of it?

No-one, because she'd alienated her two best friends by sleeping with them both, and she couldn't trust either Rachel or Kurt not to blurt everything she said to the blonde whenever they next spoke, and besides, she wouldn't even know where to start.

With a sigh, Santana heaved herself off of her bed, thinking that perhaps if she _did _something she could stop lying around in bed contemplating all the reasons why her life sucked right now, and traipsed into the kitchen to hunt for something to eat.

"You look mighty pensive," Brody commented as she slid into the chair opposite her, a while later, as she sat munching on a salad she'd managed to rustle up using the limited ingredients they had in the loft currently.

Brody was a decent guy, she'd decided fairly soon after he'd moved in – he was the most likely to side with her on an argument when Rachel and Kurt were driving her insane, and she appreciated that fact endlessly, though of course she'd never tell him that.

"It's been a long week," she replied, realising that Brody was waiting for an answer.

"It's only Wednesday."

"Exactly," she sighed, heavily, because that meant that it could be weeks before she saw Quinn again, a fact that didn't help improve her mood any – they hadn't even spoken since she'd left on Sunday, and though it was nowhere near the longest they'd gone without speaking recently it still left an ache in her chest that she knew wouldn't alleviate until they next spoke.

"Anything in particular on your mind?" He asked, trying to be nonchalant, but there was a hint of curiosity in his blue eyes. She debated, for a brief instant, of whether to be honest but then decided against it – she didn't know him well enough, not really, and she had no idea how much he knew about things with her and Quinn, either.

"Yeah, and it's none of your fucking business." He met her gaze and she smiled, sweetly, though she knew it was clear that she was being deadly serious. He shook his head before standing and wandered over to Rachel's room, and after a few seconds the blissful silence was shattered by a low laugh and when it was followed by a groan Santana decided that it was definitely time for her to get out of there.

A glance at the clock told her that she had two hours to kill before work, so she slung her bag over her shoulder and left without getting changed out of her jeans and tank top – she'd have plenty of time to get ready for work later. Surely by the time she got back the sex would have finished – Brody was a good guy, but she really couldn't see him lasting that long, if she was being honest.

It wasn't a particularly nice day out, but at least it wasn't raining, and that was something. She didn't have much of a plan in mind and just ended up walking, thinking that things would be a lot simpler if she could just out-walk her problems.

She didn't stay out for long – it was colder than she'd originally thought, and she was shivering by the time she made it back to the apartment, and thankfully Rachel and Brody had separated, one seemingly in the shower judging from the muted singing coming from the bathroom, and Rachel was in-front of the TV with books spread out around her.

"What do you even learn that you could _possibly _need to study for?" She asked, standing above the other brunette with her hands on her hips, unable to stop the brief flash of triumph she felt at seeing the flustered look on Rachel's face. "What's the matter? Too busy boning to get as much work done as you otherwise wanted?"

"Santana, I don't have time - "

"Oh, it sounded like you had _plenty _of time," she cut in, unable to help herself, and ignoring the glare that the shorter woman was throwing her. She picked up one of the textbooks and read the cover aloud. "_Script-writing for dummies_. Well, the dummy part is definitely right…"

"Fuck off, Santana," Rachel growled, and one of the brunette's eyebrows raised in response –Rachel Berry rarely swore. "Seriously, leave me alone."

Usually, she would have pressed and pressed until her roommate snapped, but Quinn's parting words echoed in her head and with a sigh she dropped the book back where she'd picked it up from and stalked back into her room, with an hour still left until she had to leave. She opened her laptop and logged into Skype, wondering if anyone worth talking to was online.

She saw the little green tick next to Quinn's name immediately, and pressed video call without even thinking, barely able to regret the automatic response before the blonde came into view on her screen, looking slightly flustered.

"_Hey." _She greeted the brunette with an easy smile. _"You couldn't have called at a worse time, you know._"

"I do pride myself on that particular talent," she replied, making herself comfortable on her bed, stretching out so that she was lying on her stomach. "How are you?"

"_I'm okay. I'm sorry I haven't called, I've had the week from hell."_

"It's okay, Q. I know they keep you busy." Even so, it still stung to know that the blonde had a life that she wasn't a part of – especially when here, surrounded by Rachel and Kurt, and even Brody, who all knew what they wanted out of life when she still had no idea, even now. "I just wanted to say, about the other night - "

"_If you're going to apologise, S, don't." _Quinn's eyes were serious as they focused on the webcam of her laptop, her voice unusually soft. _"You don't need to."_

"But I was out of line, I shouldn't have - "

"_You were drunk, right? If I had a dime for every time I'd done something stupid while I was drunk… Well, I wouldn't be as broke as I am right now, that's for sure." _

"Quinn, it wasn't - "

"_Q, you ready?" _A voice that didn't belong to the blonde echoed through the speakers of Santana's laptop, effectively cutting her off before she could finish her sentence – _it wasn't a mistake, _she'd been planning on saying. She needed Quinn to know that, drunk or no, she'd known perfectly well what she was doing when she'd practically mauled the blonde in her kitchen.

"Go," she sighed when she saw the confliction on the blonde's face, torn between Santana and whoever was with her in her bedroom in Yale right now.

"_I'm sorry, S. I'll call you soon?" _

"Okay." She hung up quickly, lest the blonde read the expression of disappointment that was sure to be on her face, and rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling, still not feeling any better in the slightest, but at least she'd managed to kill the rest of the time she had before she needed to get ready for work.

She rolled off the bed and stripped off her clothes, opting instead for a tight black dress that was sure to get her plenty of tips for the night, before heading for the door, calling out a goodbye to the still-studying brunette on the couch.

x-x-x

"Come find me when your shift finishes?" The woman who had been flirting shamelessly with Santana for at least the last hour asked, hopefully, as the brunette was called to the other side of the bar by her boss. The brunette bit her lip thoughtfully before answering, deciding _what the fuck_, maybe getting down and dirty with someone who wasn't Quinn would be good for her.

"Sure." She flashed the woman a quick smile before turning to where she was being called, ignoring some of the catcalls thrown her way by the group of drunken college boys that had been parked in-front of the bar for half of her shift.

"What's up?" She asked her boss, Tony, as she came to a stop in-front of him, half-expecting to be told off for flirting while she was on duty – not that he didn't do his fair share of it. He was an alright guy though, who she got along pretty well with, and as far as the rest of the staff went, he was probably the least creepy of them all.

"Just got a call from Emma," he called over the sound of the loud music pounding from the DJ in the far corner of the bar. Emma was another one of the bartenders, who Santana had only met briefly, because they never seemed to have the same shift. "She says she can't come in tomorrow 'cause her kid's sick – if I let you go early tonight, would you be able to cover her?"

"I guess, what time?" She wasn't one to squander the chance to earn a few extra bucks, even if it did mean she'd lose her day off.

"Same as tonight. And you can go on the hour today, if you want."

"Alright," she nodded, her main line of thinking being that perhaps if she got home a little earlier tonight she could catch up on her missed sleep – she was already exhausted, and on more than one occasion that night her eyes had been fluttering shut without conscious thought.

The remaining half an hour of her shift passed with incident, and she was on her way to leave the bar when she remembered the blonde from before and paused, spotting her not far away from the DJ and debating whether or not to leave when she looked up and met the brunette's eyes across the room, and after taking a deep breath she made her way over to where the other woman stood.

"Weren't trying to sneak away without saying goodbye, where you?"

"Of course not." She forced a smile, and held out her hand. "Want to dance?" It was easier, without trying to force a conversation, easier to pretend that the lithe body, the hips her fingers were digging into, the lips that pressed hard against hers, belonged to someone else.

This she could do – lose herself in someone else, even just for a few moments, if it would let her escape for just a little while.

But this body moved differently, kissed differently, and touched her differently to the way she wanted. Their kisses didn't have her pulse racing like her last kiss had, the shy touches weren't setting her body alight, or turning her on nearly as much as another blonde could.

At the realisation she ripped her mouth away from the other woman's, away from the stranger she didn't even know the name of, but they took it as an invitation to continue, mouth moving instead to slide down the brunette's neck, and as teeth closing around her pulse point hard enough to mark her, she jerked away.

"I… I'm sorry," she murmured quietly in response to the look of confusion on the woman's face. "I can't do this." She whirled around and left without another word, tears stinging in her eyes as she stepped into the cool night air, but she couldn't say for sure why she was crying.

Maybe it was because, even though she knew she wasn't, what she'd just been doing felt almost like she'd been cheating on Quinn, which was the most ridiculous thing ever. She'd thought, perhaps, that the blonde might feel something for her, but from the ease with which she'd dismissed the kiss they'd shared the other night she thought that perhaps she might be wrong about that, much as she was about a lot of other things, too.

When she reached the apartment she knew she looked like a mess, but judging from the look of horror that passed Rachel's face as she glanced up to see who was coming home, it must be worse than she'd originally thought.

"What the hell happened to you?!" She asked, voice tinged with concern, but she ignored the other brunette and instead stalked to her room. She'd never been one for showing weakness in-front of others, and showing it in-front of _Rachel Berry_? God, that was just unbearable.

But she should have known that the annoying midget wouldn't have get her get away so easily, and sure enough Rachel was soon stood before her with her arms crossed and a look of determination on her face.

"I'm sick of you ignoring me, Santana, there's clearly something wrong, and you clearly need a friend, so just - "

"You're not my friend," she cut her roommate off, and received an exasperated sigh in response.

"Yes I am, you idiot, otherwise I wouldn't have put up with you pissing me off so much."

"But…" She frowned at the shorter women, eyeing her critically. "I thought you only put up with me because Quinn asked you to."

"Well, okay, yeah, she asked me to give you a chance, and I did – but Santana, you're here because Kurt and I want you to be, not because of Quinn. We care about you, much as you might want to believe otherwise."

"But why?"

"Because that's what friends do, stupid. Now, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" The Latina bit her lip, because okay, she really _could _use a friend, but…

"How do I know you won't go blurting whatever I tell you to other people?" It was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she knew from the widening of Rachel's eyes that the brunette knew exactly who Santana was talking about.

"Quinn won't hear a word of whatever you say to me, I swear."

"What makes you think this has anything to do with Quinn?" The way that Rachel rolled her eyes at that was so dramatic that Santana was genuinely surprised that the brunette didn't pull something.

"Santana, seriously? It's obvious that you're hung up on her – no, don't try and deny it. I have eyes, you know." Still, she was wary, her expression guarded as she watched Rachel carefully. "Look," the brunette sighed. "If you don't want to talk to me about it now, okay. But I am here if you ever do want to talk, Santana. I hope you know that."

She left the Latina alone then, but the silence was soon too much for her, and she left her room to traipse back into the living room, and joined the other woman on the couch, picking her words carefully.

"I know I'm not easy to live with, or to be around," she started, meeting Rachel's eyes and trying to show her sincerity. "I know that, and I'm sorry. I don't think I've ever told you how grateful I am that you let me stay here – I honestly don't know where I'd be right now if you'd turned me down. So, thank you for that. But you know me, so you must know that it's not easy for me to open up to other people, and that's not going to change overnight. So, I know you're here for me, and I appreciate that, but… I'm not ready to talk about things. Not yet."

"Okay," came the answer, after a few seconds of silence, and there was still a hint of concern in the brunette's gaze as her eyes dropped from Santana's. "I can respect that, but is there anything that'll make you feel better?"

"Well, you can turn that shit off the TV, for starters." She nodded towards the musical that the brunette was watching, and caught the exasperated way that Rachel shook her head out of the corner of her eye.

"Glad to see it doesn't take much to get back to normal," Rachel muttered, and Santana fought back a smile.

"I had to do something to restore the balance," she replied, taking the remote that Rachel offered her as she settled against the back of the couch, flicking through the channels. "Where are the guys?"

"Kurt's with Adam again, and Brody's asleep."

"Asleep? It's not even midnight yet, what did you do to him?" At Rachel's blush she made a face of disgust, holding up her hand. "Don't answer that."

"How was work?" Santana appreciated the change of subject and shrugged as she settled on a channel, deciding on a trashy reality TV show that she knew they could both watch without one of them getting annoyed.

"It was alright, just the usual."

"Uh-huh, and would 'just the usual' have anything to do with that hickey on your neck?" At Rachel's words her hand automatically moved to her neck, though she knew the move was futile if her roommate had already seen it.

"Oh, God, is it bad?" She asked, half afraid of the answer if the brunette had been able to pick it out even in the crappy lighting of the apartment.

"Uh, it's not _awful_, but it's definitely noticeable. Something you want to tell me?"

"Nothing happened," she muttered, slightly bitterly, and noted the raised eyebrow that she received in response. "It didn't, alright? I couldn't… I couldn't do it."

"Who was she?"

"I don't fucking know, does it matter?"

"I guess not. It probably matters why you couldn't go through with it, though."

"Stop trying to psychoanalyse me."

"_I'm _not the one doing the psych degree," Rachel said, pointedly, and at the mention of Quinn, however indirect, she felt her mouth twist into a hard line. "Did I touch a nerve?"

"Shut up, Berry."

"Alright, alright." Silence reigned once more, but Santana could tell that Rachel was just dying from her pent up curiosity, and the way she was bouncing her leg against the floor started to grate on her nerves.

"I'm going to get a drink," she announced when she couldn't take it anymore, clambering to her feet and deciding that the more alcoholic that drink was, the better.

"Are you in love with her?" Rachel spoke so quickly that the words all melded together as one, but even so, they made her stop in her tracks and whirl around.

"_What_?"

"Quinn. Are you in love with her? Because you kinda act a lot like you are, and that _would _explain why you couldn't go through with sleeping with a random girl, so -"

"Jesus Christ, Berry! No, I'm not in love with her."

"But you _could _fall for her, if you let yourself." She felt her mouth open, ready to spit out a denial, but the words wouldn't come – all her life, she'd been a perfect liar and now, _now_, the words chose to fail her.

So instead, she used the other tactic that she was a pro at – she simply turned and walked away, avoiding the brunette's words completely.

"Oh, come on – Santana! You're being ridiculous, look, do you really think that avoiding the subject is just going to magically make things go away?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" She asked, bluntly, spinning around to see that Rachel had followed her into the kitchen and was standing a few paces away.

"Yes, they have, and stop trying to change the subject." Santana felt her jaw clench, an automatic response to being put on the spot like this, to Rachel trying to force her to open up. "Santana."

"Rachel." She replied, putting on a voice – usually, she'd see a spark of anger flash in the brunette's dark eyes at that, but not now. Now there was only a hint of pity, that just made her want to lash out even more.

"Okay, fine, you don't want to talk about it with me, whatever. But it's going to eat you alive, Santana, if you don't speak to _someone _about it. Quinn's not got plans for the weekend, you know. I'm just going to leave that there for you to think about."

x-x-x

"This was a really, really stupid idea," Santana muttered darkly under her breath as the train pulled to a stop at the New Haven station, playing idly with the strap of her bag, slung over her shoulder, as she waited impatiently for the doors to open. When they did she hopped quickly down onto the platform, tugging her coat shut against the harsh wind that buffeted her as soon as she was in the open air.

It was a blustery Friday afternoon in Connecticut as she started the twenty minute walk to where Quinn's dorms were located, fairly sure that she could remember the way without any help. As she walked she tried to recall why she'd let Rachel convince her that an impromptu visit to New Haven was such a good idea, and yet, here she was.

Quinn had no idea that she was coming, and she didn't know if that was good or bad – she just hoped that the blonde didn't mind surprises.

Her nerves only grew as she neared the dorm, and when she was outside she very nearly turned around and went back to the station to take the next train back to New York, but she knew that Rachel would have to say about that so she forced herself closer, telling herself that she was ridiculous for feeling so anxious.

Once outside the doors she paused, hoping that someone would appear at some point soon to let her in, and sure enough, it'd had only been a few minutes before a couple appeared, and she slid in the door behind them.

"Forgot my keys," she shrugged when they glanced at her curiously, and she tried to make it look as though she lived there as she made her way to the steps and bounded up them. Once inside, it was easy to get onto Quinn's floor, and she took a deep breath before knocking on the blonde's door – but, of course, typically, it went unanswered.

"She's out," called a voice behind her, and she spun around to see one of the two guys that she and Quinn had gone out with, that night when they'd kissed, all those weeks ago.

"Do you know how long she'll be?" She asked, remembering that he was actually a pretty decent guy, and taking a hesitant step towards him.

"Honestly? I have no idea. I'm guessing she doesn't know you're here? I can text her if you like."

"That'd be great." He nodded, before pulling out his phone and typing a quick message.

"So, why the impromptu visit?" The guy (she could not, for the life of her, remember his name), inquired, after a few moments of slightly awkward silence as they waited for a reply.

"I just… wanted to see her, I guess," she shrugged, because that was it, essentially. The reasons why were a hell of a lot more complicated, but this poor guy didn't need to know what went on her mind.

"Fair enough." His phone chimed with a reply and she glanced up, hoping her expression wasn't too hopeful. "She said she's on her way back here now."

"Thanks." He nodded once more before turning and wandering back towards his room, leaving her with nothing in the way of distraction aside from her own thoughts, which were tumultuous at best.

Soon, though, she could hear the unmistakable sound of the blonde's laugh coming from the hall and glanced up from where she'd been absently scrolling through Facebook on her phone, catching a rare glimpse of Quinn's unguarded face as she laughed along with the woman she was with, before she turned and noticed that the way into her room was blocked – she paused in mid-step, her voice trailing off as their eyes met.

"S-Santana?" Quinn's eyebrows creased into a frown, confused, and she had to fight away the soft smile that threatened to cross her lips at how adorable she looked like that. "What are you doing here?"

"I… Wanted to see you." She recycled the same answer along with another shrug, noticing that her words did nothing to alleviate the frown on the blonde's face.

"Okay?"

"Are you not gonna introduce us, Q?" The redhead beside Quinn spoke up, and Santana's eyes snapped to meet stormy grey, and she was unable to stop the flash of anger she felt upon her nickname for the blonde being uttered by someone who wasn't _her_.

"Oh, uh, yeah. S, this is Emilia, Em, this is Santana." They both remained where they were, sizing each other up, until the redhead took a deliberate step forward, giving the brunette a once over.

"So, this is the infamous Santana?" She asked, more to herself than anything else, and Santana's eyes snapped back to meet Quinn's, wondering what this mysterious woman knew about her – wondering what the blonde had told her, and feeling a seething jealously claw at her stomach with the thought that maybe, just maybe, Emilia had been the friend to Quinn that she herself had been unable to be, lately.

"I'd say that you were the infamous Emilia, but I'm afraid I can't seeing as I've never heard of you." Her voice was cool, cold, and she felt a smirk flash across her face when she saw a spark of anger in the (only slightly) taller woman's eyes.

"Guys," Quinn cut in, realising that there was a possibility for things to go south very quickly if she didn't intervene. "Relax."

"Does this mean we're not on for our date later tonight?"

"Our _movie_ date," Quinn stressed, looking slightly distraught at Emilia's wording as he eyes flitted nervously towards Santana. "Can wait for a couple of nights, can't it?"

"I guess." The redhead's voice was littered with a slight note of disappointment that made regret appear on the blonde's face as she took a step forward, and Santana could see the apology springing to Quinn's lips.

"No, you know what? You can have your date, movie date, whatever – it was a stupid idea for me to come here, I'll just leave." She made to bolt past both of the women, unable to stand the way that they seemed so close, like she and Quinn had used to be, before she'd fucked everything up, but she was stopped by a hand closing around her wrist, pulling her firmly backwards until she stopped right in-front of Quinn, close enough to see the swirling mixture of browns and greens that made the gorgeous hazel shade of her eyes.

"Santana," the blonde breathed, and it sounded like a caress – she was sure her name had never sounded so sweet as when it fell from Quinn's lips. "Don't be an idiot. I'm glad you're here." There was a genuine, honest smile on the blonde's face that made the brunette feel like okay, so maybe coming here hadn't been so stupid after all.

"I'll, uh, leave you guys to catch up," Emilia murmured from behind them, but Santana didn't turn to watch her leave – she was still swimming in hazel.

"Seriously, S, what are you doing here?"

"I told you, I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk to you, properly… Not in snatches whenever you have a free second."

"Talk to me about what?"

"The other night."

"But I thought - " She cut the blonde off by laying a finger across her lips, wanting, for once, to say everything that was on her mind while she had it all in order, before she chickened out of being honest.

"No, I know what you think, but I want to tell you what _I _think without you cutting me off every five seconds, can you do that?" Quinn nodded, mute, for once, and she stepped backwards, needing a little space from the heady scent of the blonde's perfume before she did something stupid like lunged at her. "We could probably do with a little privacy," she continued, nodding towards the blonde's bedroom door.

A second later they were inside, and being there brought back countless memories as she stood on the threshold of the room – their first, electric kiss, _that _night, of drunken fumbling and loud moans, of waking up pressed against Quinn's naked body the next morning.

She stepped forward, finally, noting the way the blonde was looking at her curiously, and shut the door behind her, leaning back against her as her eyes met questioning hazel once more. She let those familiar eyes ground her, and took a deep breath.

_I can do this_, she thought, her eyes never leaving Quinn's. _I can do this. _


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: ****Hopefully this one makes up for the cliffhanger. ;) **

"Santana?" Quinn asked, puzzled, after a few moments of heavy silence. The brunette's mouth had opened and closed a few times, and the blonde had waited patiently for her to say whatever was on her mind, but no words had been formed. She shifted back so that she was perched on the end of her bed, exhausted after a full day of classes, and watched Santana with curious eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I-I'm fine." The blonde was still confused, unsure of the expression on the brunette's face – it wasn't one she was familiar with. "I just - " Santana cut herself off when her phone rang, and she fished it out of her pocket with a frown, sighing heavily when she saw who was calling. "Sorry, Q."

"It's fine."

"_What the hell, Berry?" _Quinn looked up at that, from where her gaze had fallen to the floor, cocking her head to one side as she watched Santana carefully – as far as she knew, her and Rachel still weren't exactly on the best of terms, and she couldn't think of much that would change that. "_Yes I'm here. No, I've not, Jesus fucking Christ, I've only been here for – alright. Yeah, yeah, I'll call you, whatever. Bye." _

"What was that all about?" Quinn asked when the brunette had hung up, catching Santana's gaze and holding it, feeling her heartrate pick up when she took deliberate steps towards her until she was in-front of her and then extended her hands, taking Quinn's and pulling her to her feet. "What are you doing?" When she stood, they were face to face, and she could feel Santana's breath ghosting across her lips, as started to drown in a sea of gorgeous brown.

"The other night, when I kissed you, you thought that it was just because I was drunk, and you were there, but, Q – it wasn't. I can't stop thinking about you, I can't – God, I can't _do _anything because you're all that's on my mind, and I, I think I might be - "

She cut Santana off by pressing their lips together before she could finish, sure that the last few words would be even more dangerous than the ones she'd already uttered; that they would break her beyond repair.

It was easier like this, to not think beyond the gentle way the brunette's hands grasped at her waist, the way her mouth was hot against hers, the way she gasped, quietly, against her lips when Quinn's hand tangled in her hair.

Much easier than letting herself dwell on what it meant – what she, what they _both_ might feel, because fuck, that was terrifying. No, this was easier, better, she knew for sure, when she was shoved back to sit on the bed, and Santana straddled her hips.

"Quinn, I - " The brunette started, pulling her mouth away, not without effort, and gazing down at the blonde with a heated gaze, her eyes so dark they looked almost black in the rapidly darkening light of the blonde's room. "What are we doing?"

"I don't know," she murmured, pressing her forehead against the brunette's shoulder, content to just breathe her in, hands running idly along the waistband of Santana's jeans. "I don't know, but God, I don't want to stop."

She pulled back and their eyes met again, something passing between them in that moment that neither of them truly understood, but they both knew it meant something – something that would probably change what they were to each other forever.

Santana was leaning back to kiss the blonde once more when there was a soft knock at the door, and they both paused, freezing in the vain hope that that would send whoever it was away.

"I know you're in there, Quinn," Jamie called through the door and she cursed inwardly before sighing when another knock came. "If you don't answer then I'll think you've killed each other and come in," he threatened, and Santana shifted so that she was lounging across the bed, and Quinn tried not to pout when she felt the loss of the brunette's warmth against her.

"The coast is clear," she called, and the door opened a crack a moment later, Jamie's face appearing in the gap. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you were still coming out with us later."

"Oh, shit, Michael's birthday." She felt pretty bad for letting that slip her mind, considering it'd had been all he'd been talking about for the last few days. "Uh, I don't know." She cast a quick glance to where Santana was lying.

"You don't need my permission to go out, you know, Q," the brunette drawled, stretching. "I can entertain myself just fine – it's my own fault for not warning you I was coming," she shrugged, but Quinn would feel terrible the whole night if she left the brunette behind.

"You can come, too," Jamie offered a solution, and Quinn didn't think it was half bad, either. She wasn't entirely sure that Santana and Emilia would get on well, but there would be enough other people there to diffuse the tension, surely.

"No, that's okay, I wouldn't want to intrude on anythi - "

"You're an idiot," Quinn cut in, earning a furious glare, which only made her smile. "You're coming. End of story." She turned her attention back to Jamie, ignoring the protests that the brunette attempted to make. "What time are you heading out?"

"About ten, so you have a couple of hours."

"Alright, see you in a bit." He nodded and shut the door gently behind him, leaving them alone once more. "When have you _ever _turned down a night out?" She asked, turning her attention back to Santana, who shrugged. "Really good talk, S, _really_."

"We weren't exactly talking a second ago, either," Santana pointed out as she moved fluidly so that she was sat up, a teasing edge to her voice.

"Shut up." She shoved the brunette's shoulder lightly, but a hand shot out to grab her arm and pull her down, too, and she ended up half on-top of the brunette, her breath catching in her throat. "W-what are you doing?"

"In the words of the one and only Quinn Fabray: 'I don't know, but God, I don't want to stop'."

"Stop stealing my lines," the blonde muttered, but her words were soon forgotten when Santana kissed her again, and she shifted so that she was better positioned, one knee on either side of the brunette's waist, her hands splayed on either side of her head.

When they broke apart she was breathless, and instead of ripping of the brunette's clothes like she wanted to, she forced herself to slow down, rearing back and letting her eyes trace over Santana's face, admiring the heat in her eyes, and the redness of her lips.

"Why now?" She asked, and at the slight quirk in one of the brunette's eyebrows she rushed to explain. "I mean, you had the whole time we were in New York to say something…"

"Well, technically, I did _try _seeing as I kissed you in my kitchen."

"You were _drunk_."

"I needed the courage!"

"Since when does Santana Lopez need courage?"

"I do when it comes to you." Raw honesty shone in the brunette's voice, in her eyes, and it took Quinn's breath away. "Brittany broke me, and I've put myself back together, but you – you could destroy me, if you wanted to."

"We could destroy each other," the blonde pointed out, starting to think that she was dreaming, because never in a million years would she have expected Santana to be _here_, to have sought her out, just to tell her this.

"What do you want from me, Q?" Dark eyes bored into hazel, searching for something, but Quinn didn't know what the brunette wanted to hear. "Because I… I don't think I can do a relationship right now, I'm not… I don't think I'm ready yet."

"That's okay," she heard herself speak, though her thoughts were far from coherent, seeing as she was still stunned. "I don't think I want that, either. Not right now." That much was true, at least – she didn't even know if they would - _could_ - work, together, considering how often they were at each other's throats, but being just friends clearly wasn't working, either.

"Can you even do casual, Q?" Santana's voice broke her out of her thoughts, the brunette's fingertips drawing absent patterns where they rested, at her hips, and making it hard for her to form words.

"I can try." There were few words, then, as the brunette moved suddenly to sit up and then leant forwards so that Quinn was on her back, pressed into the mattress by Santana's weight as the brunette's mouth crushed her own, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Hands clutched at her with an air of desperation, and she matched it – she hadn't forgotten what the brunette felt like beneath her hands, but her memories paled in comparison to the real thing, as her nails scratched lightly down Santana's back, and she heard a hiss against her neck, where the brunette's mouth was pressed.

Her hands moved further south to grab at the brunette's ass, and a toned thigh pressed against her core, her hips pressing upwards automatically as a groan fell from her lips.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves now, Q," Santana murmured against her neck, her voice lower than usual, huskier, and it sent a shiver of anticipation ripple through her whole body. "I want to take my time with you."

"Fuck," she whimpered as teeth grazed the side of her neck, and hands started to push at the hem of her t-shirt.

"We'll get to that later," the brunette breathed, mouth at her ear now, and Quinn's back arched when a tongue danced along the shell. "Much later."

"_Santana_," she groaned, but received only a low chuckle in response, as her shirt was pulled over her head and hands splayed across her stomach. Her eyes opened to meet the brunette's, who was sat above her and looking at her with such hunger that it sent her heart racing, so loudly that she could hear it thudding in her ears. "Don't be a tease."

The brunette only grinned before leaning back down, pressing a trail of kisses down the centre of her chest, tongue laving a path around the edge of the blonde's black bra, leaving Quinn gasped at her hands tangled in dark hair in a desperate attempt to force Santana closer.

It felt like hours later when her bra was finally stripped off, and the feeling of the brunette's tank top against her bare skin was electric. Hands moved to cup her breasts as the kissed again, and it was hot and wet and messy, and _God _Quinn couldn't get enough of it.

Her hands scrambled to divulge the brunette of her shirt, greedy as they mapped across tanned skin, and the bra follow soon after, leaving them both bare chested, the feeling of skin against skin making them both groan.

Impatient, the blonde's hands moved quickly downwards, undoing the button of the brunette's black jeans easily and shoved them down her hips before moving to the edge of her underwear, but she was stopped by strong hands closing around her wrists and moving them so that they were pinned over her head.

"Nice try, Fabray," Santana started, pulling back from the blonde's mouth with another easy grin, out of breath from their kiss. "But I mean it, I'm taking my time with you."

"You are _impossible_," Quinn hissed as the brunette's mouth pressed against hers again, though she'd be lying if she said that being pinned down by Santana wasn't secretly exhilarating, as much as she ached to have her hands running across the brunette's skin.

"And you love it." Santana shifted so that both of the blonde's wrists were secured in one of her hands, and the other moved back to the blonde's chest, rolling one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger before tracing lower, running teasingly around the waistband of her jeans.

"_Santana_," she murmured again, hips bucking slightly in the desperation to feel _some _friction where she needed it most. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Fuck me." It hung in the air between them for a moment, because really, it meant something else now, now that they were both completely sober, completely in control of their actions, no excuse for what was happening aside from a mutual attraction for one another.

But then none of that mattered when Santana released the blonde's hands and peeled of the blonde's jeans, pulling her underwear with it, and shimmying out of her own before moving back on-top of Quinn, both of them completely naked now, in-front of each other for the first time.

Quinn didn't have much time to appreciate the sight, though, because one of Santana's hands was parting her thighs gently, and then a single finger was running lightly, with barely any pressure, through her folds and her eyes fluttered closed as she groaned.

"Fuck, Q," Santana whispered, laboured breathing puffing against the blonde's cheek, and Quinn's hips bucked into the brunette's hand as she pressed against her clit lightly.

"Stop being a tease," the blonde managed to gasp in-between breathy moans, and Santana laughed, pressing a light kiss to the blonde's lips.

"I'm not," she answered, innocently. "Just making sure you're ready for me." Quinn knew that was a lie, because she knew she was wet, almost embarrassingly so, and had been pretty much since their first kiss, much earlier.

"_Please_, S, I… I need you." She was rewarded by the pressing of two fingers inside her, suddenly enough to make her gasp, but her back arched all the same, hips pressing upwards. "Oh, God, _yes_."

She felt Santana's smirk against her shoulder, but she couldn't really bring herself to care about that as the brunette's thumb brushed against her clit with every thrust of her fingers. She knew she wouldn't be able to hold on for long, was already so close to the edge purely from the brunette's teasing, but just as she felt the familiar tightening in her stomach Santana stopped, abruptly, pulling her hand away.

"What the fuck are you _doing_?" Quinn groaned, aching for release, as she cracked her eyes open to glare at the brunette, wanting to feel furious but instead only able to manage to be mildly annoyed, still able feel the echo of Santana's slender fingers.

She received no answer – instead, the brunette's mouth descended to her chest, pressing hot kisses to both of the blonde's nipples on her way down, teeth grazing across their tips lightly and making another stream of moans fall from the blonde's lips. Then Santana moved farther south, mouth moving across Quinn's stomach – it was only when she reached her hips that the blonde realised the brunette's intentions and pulled hard at her hair, stopping her from going any further.

"W-what are you doing?" She felt strangely vulnerable, with the brunette kneeling between her parted thighs, hands resting lightly on her hipbones, looking up at her through hooded eyes.

"Do you trust me?" It was a loaded question, because Quinn did, with her life, but whether that was wise or not remained to be seen. Mute, she nodded, though the hand still wrapped tightly in dark locks trembled slightly. "Are you okay?"

"I… I've n-never…" She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, but there was a flicker of understanding in the brunette's eyes as she put the pieces together.

"_Never_?" She sounded slightly appalled, and Quinn bit her lip and shook her head, feeling shy, more so then she'd ever felt around Santana. "Okay, then, we don't have to if you don't want - "

"No, no, I-I want to, I'm just…" She trailed off again, and Santana nodded, pressing a light kiss to the blonde's hip.

"It's okay, Q," she murmured against her skin as she moved lower, kissing her inner thighs. "Just relax."

She let her head drop back down onto the pillow, suitably distracted by the brunette's mouth on her skin, though she couldn't stop a spike of nervousness shooting through her when Santana's hands wrapped around her thighs, keeping her in place.

She could feel Santana's breath against her core and shivered in anticipation, both hands fisted into the brunette's hair. The first touch of the brunette's tongue had her hips bucking upwards and her hands tightening to the point where she was sure it was probably painful for the Latina, but she made no protest as her tongue flicked against the blonde's clit, slowly at first but soon increasing in speed.

"_Shit_, Santana," the blonde moaned, surprised she could actually form words because her mind was a jumbled mess, and she could already start to feel herself coming undone under the brunette's so very talented mouth, because she had _definitely _never felt anything as good as this ever before in her life.

When two fingers pressed back inside of her and started a rhythm to match the pace of the brunette's tongue she could only hold on her a few seconds before her orgasm crashed through her, and she bit her lip to stop herself from screaming.

"That was hot," Santana murmured against her lips some time later, when the blonde's pounded heart had quieted slightly, before kissing her soundly – Quinn could taste herself on Santana's tongue, and she wondered what it'd be like to return the favour.

She tried to flip them over but the brunette stopped her, pulling back and shaking her head, laughing at the blonde's pout.

"Much as I'd like to continue, we're supposed to be going out," Santana pointed out. Quinn frowned, because she hadn't _really _wanted to go in the first place and she sure as hell didn't want to _now_, but she'd promised, after all. "And if you touch me there is no way in hell I'm letting you out of this room until I'm done with you, and believe me, that won't be for a while," the brunette finished with a smirk, and Quinn wondered how she'd ever become lucky enough to have someone so hot in her bed.

"_Fine_," Quinn sighed, eventually, stealing one more kiss from the brunette before making a move to stand up. "But if you think that I'll be able to keep my hands to myself all night you're sorely mistaken."

x-x-x

"She's a bit of a bitch," Emilia commented, several hours later, after what was probably her fifth or sixth drink, indicating Santana's back with the wave of one of her hands. "Isn't she?"

"She can be, yeah," Quinn replied, glancing after the brunette, who had disappeared with Jamie to get another round of drinks.

"What have I ever done to her, anyway?" Quinn shrugged, because she wasn't oblivious to the barbed comments exchanged between the pair of them all night long. "I don't even _know _her."

"I think she's jealous," Michael piped up from the other side of the table, and both girls as well as Simon turned to look at him. "What? She is. She clearly has the hots for Quinn, and she sees you as a threat."

"Okay, well then if _that's _true she'll get worse the more I flirt with Q, right? Let's test that theory."

"Uh, Em, I _really _don't think that's such a good idea - " Quinn started, but the redhead waved her down, and the blonde couldn't really say much more because Santana and Jamie were coming back through the crowd.

"You look _gorgeous _tonight, Q, have I told you that?" Emilia draped one arm over the blonde's shoulder as she leant closer, effectively now sitting in the seat that Santana had vacated. Quinn caught the glare the brunette shot at the back of Emilia's head and shook her head slightly.

"Thank you, Em," the blonde replied, trying to shift from under the redhead's arm but not really succeeding.

"I mean, really hot." Santana didn't sit down, instead she moved to the other side of the blonde's chair, eyes watching the pair of them warily. "Like, I would seriously consider," Emilia's voice lowered to a whisper as she leant closer to Quinn's ear. "Taking you to that bathroom over there and fucking y - "

She was cut off as Santana grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet, eyes sparking with fury and jaw clenching in anger. Emilia quickly went from stunned to pissed off, and as Quinn saw them square up to each other she wished that the floor would just open and swallow them up – all eyes had turned on their little group, it seemed.

"Get your _fucking _hands off me," Emilia spat, taking a deliberate step forward so that she and Santana were practically nose to nose.

"Maybe if _your _hands weren't were they weren't wanted I wouldn't have had to step in," Santana hissed, blazing with rage.

"What, on Q? Oh, please, I didn't see her complaining." Quinn would have sworn she heard Santana growl before her arm moved back, and the blonde quickly sprang to her feet and shoved herself inbetween the two women.

"Hey! Calm the fuck down, okay?" Not waiting for an answer she seized Santana's wrist and yanked her away, stopping when they were out of earshot of everyone else. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"She was all over you!"

"And? She was doing it on purpose, to get a rise out of you."

"She wants you."

"Santana, stop being ridiculous, she doesn't." When the brunette made a move to protest, she barrelled on. "And even if she _does _it makes no difference, because I'm not interested in her, okay? So stop being such a jealous idiot and let it go."

"I will if she keeps her hands to herself," the Latina muttered sullenly, under her breath, but Quinn still heard it.

"You will regardless of if she does or not because she's nothing to me compared to you, okay?"

"When did you get so bossy?" Santana's tone turned quickly playful as she took a step towards the blonde, their hips bumping together as Quinn's eyes lifted to meet the brunette's. "Not that I don't like it – it's kinda hot."

She rolled her eyes at that, but didn't protest when Santana dipped her head down and kissed her, softly, strong hands grabbing at her waist and pulling her closer – it was her staking a claim, Quinn knew, but she didn't really mind.

"Are you going to stop being such a bitch now?" The blonde asked when they broke apart, but she was smiling, still not entirely able to believe that she could kiss the brunette now, whenever she really wanted to.

"I guess. If you make it worthwhile."

"Oh, I will, believe me." She turned back to the table then, not entirely sure that she'd be able to refrain from shoving the Latina into the aformentioned bathroom if they carried on. She ignored the curious glances that the others threw her when she sat back down again, Santana sliding in beside her and resting her hand on the blonde's upper thigh as she studiously ignored Emilia.

After that, the night went pretty smoothly – soon they'd all drunk too much for any hostility to exist between them, or Emilia had, anyway. Quinn hadn't had much because there was no way in hell she was going to get to the point where she'd be unable to get Santana naked as soon as it was socially acceptable for them to head back home, and the brunette seemed to be of a similar mindset.

She was dancing with Emilia when a slender arm wrapped around her waist and spun her around, arms winding around Santana's neck as the brunette drew her close.

"Where did you go?" Quinn called over the loud music, the brunette having disappeared a few minutes earlier without much warning, not that she'd really minded that much – she loved to dance, after all.

"Jamie wanted a word with me," Santana shrugged, and Quinn frowned, because that didn't sound right, at all.

"About what?" She asked, puzzled, because she really didn't see what Santana and Jamie had in common.

"Oh, you know, just the typical 'if you hurt her I'll kill you' type of talk."

"Huh? That doesn't sound like him." She cast a glance over the brunette's shoulder to try and spy her friend in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Yeah, but he's had like, ten beers, I don't think he's feeling himself right now."

"I guess." She filed that away to ask him about at another time – for now she was content to move with the music, steadied by Santana's hands grasping her waist. It wasn't long before the music switched to something much more upbeat, and then their moves changed to something decidedly less PG than before, as Santana's hands danced up her thighs, sneaking under her dress as their lips met in a heated kiss, the blonde's hands holding the brunette close.

"Jesus fucking Christ, guys, get a room!" Emilia's voice snapped them out of the spell they'd found themselves under, but they didn't really move apart. All that Quinn was aware of was Santana, the heat of her body, the heady scent of her perfume, and the blazing warmth of her hands where they rested, just under the hem of her dress, nails digging slightly into her skin.

"You know, Em," Quinn called over the music, eyes meeting her friends, who was smirking at the pair of them, dancing with her back pressed into Michael's front. "That is a fantastic idea."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure." She left Santana's arms for just long enough to give her friend a quick hug before taking the brunette's hand in her own and dragging her towards the doors, only one thought in her mind – get back home as soon as possible.

"Whoa, Q, you on a mission or something?" Santana laughed as she hurried to keep pace with the blonde, who merely bit her lip in feigned innocence, as her eyes, darkened from being pressed so intimately against the brunette not so long ago, met tumultuous brown.

"Mm, definitely. One that involves getting you out of that very sexy dress." Her eyes took the opportunity to rake over the brunette's figure, tracing every curve that was highlighted by the tight material of the purple dress, lingering at the plunging neckline hungrily.

"Well, I can't argue with that…" Santana trailed off with a suggestive smirk that knocked the breath from the breath lungs, and her step faltered, the brunette pulling her along then with a wicked laugh.

The walk back, barely even a three minute journey, somehow managed to feel like an age, and by the time they were outside of the blonde's room Santana had apparently had enough, as Quinn's hands fumbled with the keys to open the door – she was pressed flat against the door by the brunette's body as her lips pressed a kiss to the blonde's shoulder.

"Y-you could at least wait until we're _inside _my room," the blonde managed to gasp, fighting off a moan as the Latina's teeth grazed the juncture where neck met shoulder, and her knees buckled when one of Santana's hands slid across the front of her body and ran a teasing finger between her legs, over the thin material of her dress.

"You were taking too long," came the reply, the brunette's breathing already ragged.

"You're just impatient."

"Are you really going to argue this right now?" Hands grasped at her waist and spun her around, Santana's lips descending on hers in a crushing kiss that had her head spinning. The brunette's hands moved to her thighs, lifting them slightly and she took the hint, lifting her left leg and wrapping it around the brunette's waist, and then doing the same with her right.

When their lips parted Santana's mouth descended down her neck and her head fell back against the wall as she bit her lip in a desperate attempt to keep quiet, her hands tangling in dark waves as open-mouthed kisses were pressed against the column of her throat.

Santana soon moved lower, and her hands yanked roughly at the blonde's dress, pulling it down to reveal the black bra underneath – but Quinn quickly moved to yank it back up, glaring down at the brunette beneath her.

"What?"

"_Public _place, Santana!" She hissed, though admittedly, she hadn't really cared much a few seconds ago – but still, anyone could walk out of their rooms at any point, and she'd be mortified, not to mention that she'd still be living with them for several months.

"Oh come on, Q, where's your sense of adventure?"

"I don't – oh, _fuck_, _Santana_." She'd been too preoccupied to notice one of the brunette's hands moving up her thigh, so when two fingers pressed into her she was caught off-guard but _god_, did it feel good. Her head thumped back against the wall behind her and she could feel the brunette's smirk against the side of her neck, but she didn't care as the brunette's thumb started to circle her clit lightly, sending jolts of pleasure through her whole body.

"Have I told you how sexy it was when you say my name when you're like this?" Santana murmured into her ear, voice breathy as her teeth closed gently around the blonde's earlobe, biting softly.

"Oh, _god_." There were pressed so tightly together that there wasn't much room to manoeuvre, so the brunette elected to simply keep two fingers buried inside the blonde as her thumb continued to press against her clit, making her hips buck forward with increasing speed as she move closer towards the edge. Her hands fisted in Santana's hair, holding her mouth against her neck, where she was sucking skin hard enough to leave a mark, but it was only adding to the pleasure Quinn was feeling.

"Come on, Q," Santana's head lifted to breathe in her ear, voice ragged. "Let go." The brunette's tongue laved a line down the side of her neck, before she pressed her lips to the blonde's in a bruising kiss, swallowing Quinn's moan as she came, hard, against the brunette's hand.

When they broke apart the blonde was breathless, her heart racing as she came down from her high, a thin sheen of sweat covering her body. She didn't have long to recover from her orgasm, though, as the sound of an opening door echoed through the hall. The brunette moved quickly, sliding her fingers out of the blonde, who immediately felt their loss and let out a soft groan of discontent even though she knew it was necessary.

"There's more where that came from, Q, don't worry," Santana smirked, and Quinn glared down at the brunette for being so cocky, but that just made her smirk widen. She dropped her legs from Santana's waist but she was still shaky and her knees buckled, nearly sending her sprawling – hands caught her upper arms and yanked her upright before she could fall, and Santana chuckled to herself as she bent down to retrieve the blonde's keys, where there'd fallen to the floor, forgotten, as soon as she'd been pressed against the wall by Santana's lithe body.

"You're so arrogant," Quinn muttered from where she was leaning against the wall beside the door as Santana unlocked it easily.

"Shouldn't you be being nicer to me right now?" The brunette replied, arching an eyebrow at the blonde as she turned to face her. The possibility of being discovered fleeing the blonde's mind, she stepped forward and slammed Santana back against the wall, crushing their mouths together and bypassing the brunette's lips with her tongue, wanting to claim her like she so easily dominated Quinn.

One leg slid between Santana's thighs, and she felt her hips rock upwards at the contact as a soft moan reverberated through her mouth, the brunette's hands grasping tightly at her waist. Her own hands raked over Santana's bare thighs before cupping her ass roughly, forcing her hips to thrust forward harder, a louder moan escaping her lips.

Quinn heard, distantly, the opening of another door, closer this time, but couldn't bring herself to stop – she made a half-attempt to shuffle them sideways, to pass through the safety of her bedroom door, but it was half-hearted, the worry of getting caught paling in comparison to her craving for Santana.

"Oh, _shit_, I did not need to see that!" It was Jamie's voice that broke the spell Quinn was under and she froze, hands dropping to her sides as she spun around, expression mortified as she met the stricken eyes of her friend, noting the look of wry amusement on Simon's face, who stood beside him and looked like he was desperately trying not to laugh.

"Shit, I-I'm sorry," Quinn squeaked, face flushed with equal parts embarrassment and arousal. She spared a glance back towards Santana, who was still leaning against the wall and trying to catch her breath, but there was a look of slight triumph in her eyes, as though this had been her plan all along.

"You have a _bedroom_, Quinn, it's right _there_!" Jamie replied, peeking at her through his hands, which had covered his eyes upon seeing her and Santana pressed together.

"I'm sorry," she said again, still horrified. "God, I'm so sorry."

"Let's just forget this ever happened, yeah?" Simon offered, helpfully, and the blonde shot him a grateful look.

"Yes. Let's definitely do that."

"Yeah, okay," Jamie muttered, but he didn't sound entirely convinced. "I'll, uh, see you tomorrow, Quinn. Night." He disappeared through the door of his own room with Simon in tow, and as soon as they were gone she spun back around to face Santana, glaring again.

He disappeared through the door of his own room with Simon in tow, and as soon as they were gone she spun back around to face Santana, glaring again.

"This is _your _fault!" She called accusingly, before she stormed through her previously unlocked bedroom door, throwing herself down onto the bed and crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for the brunette to follow her through.

"My fault? Really? Cause you seemed pretty up for it just then." Santana entered the room warily, closing the door behind her with a definitive click and standing just inside the room, looking uncertain.

"Not the _point_!" Dark eyes studied her carefully, and she turned away, not liking the level of scrutiny being pinned on her.

"That's the first time you've ever been properly caught in the act, isn't it?"

"Why do you sound so _happy _about that?!" Her voice rose an octave and she clenched her hands into fists in an effort to calm herself down, staring pointedly at the floor.

"I'm not, I'm not. Sorry, Q, it's just… I've been caught doing a lot worse, trust me. That was nothing compared to some of the compromising positions I've been found in." She supposed that Santana was trying to reassure her, but the brunette's words did nothing but make her mind flee to _who _she'd been caught with, instead.

"Well thank you, S, for reminding me how inexperienced I am when compared to you," she replied, voice bitter, and she glanced upwards just in time to see the brunette's eyes widen in surprise.

"What? Does that seriously bother you?" She refused to answer, looking away, but she heard Santana's heavy sigh. The brunette crossed the room in four easy steps and sank to her knees in-front of where the blonde sat, one hand gently lifting Quinn's head until their faces were level. "Hey, look at me." Her hand tightened as the blonde tried to look away, her grip strong, forcing their eyes to meet.

"How can it not?" She whispered, finally, her voice wavering slightly. It wasn't something she dwelled on, but it was certainly there, hovering in the back of her mind – how could she ever compare to Santana's past?

"Look, you have nothing to worry about, okay? It doesn't matter to me." Her eyes shone with sincerity, and she pressed a gentle kiss to the blonde's lips, the tenderness of the gesture surprising them both as the brunette's hand shook where it still cradled the blonde's chin.

"But - "

"But _nothing_." She kissed Quinn again, rougher this time, laying claim to her mouth with her tongue, her hands sliding gently up and down the smooth skin of the blonde's upper thighs. "If I didn't want this I wouldn't be doing it, okay?" She murmured when they parted, resting her forehead gently against the blonde's.

"Okay," Quinn breathed, worry assuaged for now. "Then are you going to let me return the favour like I promised before?" Her hands hovered suggestively at the zipper of the brunette's dress, her gaze heated.

"Mm, I think I'd like that."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: ****I'm sorry this has taken so long, I have had it written for weeks, but I never like posting something unless I'm a couple of chapters ahead or then there could be a _really _long wait. Hopefully you'll forgive me though, and I'll try my best to get back into the swing of things as soon as possible. **

* * *

"What are we doing here again?" Santana questioned as the train came to a stop at their station, after several hours of travelling – the large sign on the platform proclaimed 'Lima, OH', in large letters, and the brunette's gaze lingered with slight distaste at the words.

It wasn't that she didn't _like _coming home, it was just… Lima didn't really hold too many happy memories for her. And it was nothing compared to New York.

"We can't miss the _wedding_, Santana," Rachel scoffed as she hopped down onto the platform, Kurt at her side. Santana followed the pair of them reluctantly, still not entirely sure that she wanted to spend her Valentine's day at Schue's wedding but, here she was.

Puck was having a party to celebrate New Direction's return for the weekend, but she wasn't sure she wanted to go – Quinn wasn't getting to Lima until late, and she didn't really want to be around all the others without her blonde friend.

Then again, maybe 'friend' was a loose term for what they were nowadays. Her trip to New Haven had been three wonderful days where they'd barely strayed from the blonde's bed and God, had it been one of the best weekends of her life. Since, they'd kept in regular contact, and though she'd had to endure Rachel and Kurt's teasing on a regular basis, mainly whenever her phone chimed, it was all worth it, in her opinion.

Rachel's dads had offered Santana a lift to her place seeing as her parents were both busy, her dad stuck with long days in the hospital and her mom visiting her sister on the other side of the country. She didn't mind too much – she loved her parents, but they'd always been a little absent, and she was used to spending hours alone.

The idle chatter between Rachel and her parents was welcome on the short trip to her house, because it saved her from doing much talking. Her last two trips to Lima were hovering just in the back of her mind since they'd left the New York loft that morning – one where she'd very nearly lost Quinn's friendship, and anything else they could ever be, and the other where she'd arrived home a mess after losing her scholarship a few weeks ago.

Her parents had been disappointed, she knew, but they hadn't blamed her for it, like she'd expected. Perhaps they knew that she was only in Louisville out of the obligation she felt to them, to go to college, but she hadn't enjoyed it. She still didn't know what she wanted to do, but she knew that it sure as hell wasn't cheerleading.

"Here we are," one of Rachel's dads, Leroy, she thought, cut through her thoughts as the car pulled to a stop.

"Thanks," she murmured, gathering her bags in her hands before opening the door. "See you tomorrow," she called to Rachel as she climbed out onto the curb, and the brunette smiled in return.

Santana wasn't quite sure when the two of them had gone from constantly bickering to becoming sort-of friends, but she didn't mind the change. It was _nice _living with people that she got on with – her previous roommates back in Kentucky had been hell to live with, and Rachel, Kurt and Brody were actually a pretty nice change from that.

Inside the house it was dark, and quiet, empty aside from the small form of her cat, Anastasia, as she appeared at the top of the staircase to see who the intruder was. Santana traipsed up to her bedroom with her bags, scratching the Siamese on the head as she passed.

Her room was unchanged from her last visit, and she lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the photographs tapped to the side of her mirror on her vanity table, and moved over to them, her fingertips running along the front as each memory hit her like a train.

"_What are you doing?!" She shrieked as Brittany wrapped her arms around her waist and pushed them both into Puck's pool – the water was cold, and Santana came to the surface flustered, her hair plastered to her head as she turned to glare at her girlfriend, who looked back at her sheepishly._

"_You looked like you could do with cooling down," she shrugged, eyes turning worried when Santana's glare didn't drop. "I'm sorry." But the brunette had never been able to stay mad at the blonde for long and she'd cracked, her face splitting into a smile as she pressed a light kiss to the blonde's cheek – the moment captured by Mercedes, who had her camera ready. _

Her eyes lingered on the expression on her own face in the photo – she looked happy, content, something that she was only starting to feel again now, months after their breakup. But the memory didn't leave a painful pang in her chest, like it used to, and her eyes moved to the next picture down.

"_Why don't you go talk to him?" Brittany was trying to encourage a fifteen year old Quinn towards the guy who was apparently 'the hottest in the year' – the new up and coming quarterback, Finn Hudson. _

_It was their first proper party with the 'in' crowd since they'd started at McKinley, and Santana was bored. She liked being the top of the social ladder, sure, but she didn't feel the desire to cling to it like Quinn did. _

_Mostly she was only there because of Quinn – the blonde hadn't wanted to go without backup, so she and Brittany had been dragged along. And as Quinn started towards Finn, Santana tried to ignore the seething jealously clawing at her stomach and instead downed the rest of her drink, trying not to wince as the bitter vodka slid down her throat. _

"_Want another?" Brittany had asked, and she'd smiled and nodded, and wondered why she'd never noticed how pretty the blonde's eyes were before. _

Santana couldn't remember who'd taken that photo, and could barely even remember the events of night after it'd been taken, expect that she'd gotten very, very drunk for the first time, and lived to regret it the next day - and that the following Monday morning, Quinn had been attached to Finn's side, and didn't leave it for another year, until Rachel Berry came along.

She'd kept it for so long for two reasons – it was the first time she'd ever really thought of Brittany as anything other than a friend, and it was the night that she'd started to let Quinn go, when she'd realised that her pretty cheerleader best friend would never look at her the way she wanted her to.

Countless other photos were pinned to the wooden frame of the mirror – most of them were special moments between her and Brittany, ones that she hadn't been able to bring herself to throw away after their break-up. The night of their first kiss, the first time they had sex, the day they'd gotten together, their major anniversaries – it was all documented in picture form, along with a few other random ones, including ones of her and other New Direction's members, all moments that she remembered fondly.

And then, at the bottom, tacked onto the only space she could find, were a few of her and Quinn, separate from the others. A few held no significance, and were just ones that she liked, but there were two that she'd pinned there the last time she'd been home, and there was another one that she'd printed off when she was back in New York that she put up beneath them.

The first was from the previous Thanksgiving, after they'd let their emotions get the best of them and ended up slapping each other – afterwards, before the blonde had disappeared back to Yale, Schue had wanted a group photo of old members and new, and she and Quinn had ended up beside each other. Even though they hadn't been on speaking terms, their arms were around each other and they were smiling, and she liked it because she knew that, no matter what happened between them, they could work it out.

The second was a very blurry snapshot of she and Quinn taken at one of the clubs they'd been to whilst Santana had been in New Haven over the Christmas break, and she'd found it when she was trawling through the blonde's photos in Facebook when she'd been missing her during their long separation and silence afterwards.

And the third was another slightly blurry photo of them again, in a club in New Haven, this time taken during her last visit, when they'd agreed to give being more than friends a shot. Her fingers traced the outline of the blonde's body absently as she remembered that night, and the two nights that had followed, in startlingly vivid detail. Her hand shook, and she dropped it, hastily turning away from the image of the blonde wrapped around her body as they danced, thinking that the quicker Quinn got to town, the better.

x-x-x

"You didn't have to wait for me in the cold, Santana, you could have gone inside." Quinn's voice held a slight note of concern as she eyed the outfit the brunette was wearing critically. "You must be freezing."

"I'm fine," she insisted, though a shiver betrayed her, and Quinn took her arm and dragged her inside the church, the touch sending another shiver rocking through her body, though for an entirely different reason.

It was already busy, as they sat down towards the back, and Quinn's hand squeezed Santana's thigh gently as she bent to place her bag on the floor, conveying more with her eyes when they met her own, briefly, than she could say with words, and Santana's mouth went dry at the heated look the blonde threw her, wishing that they could just skip this whole ceremony and go straight back to the hotel room that she knew Quinn had booked. She didn't know what the blonde had told Judy to get away with not spending the night at home, but she was more than grateful that she'd managed to do it.

Brittany waved at the pair from where she sat with Sam, and Santana smiled back at them with genuine affection, even offering Sam a half-wave before they turned back around. Other glee-clubbers were filtering in but none paused to speak to them, conscious of the time – Will was already at the front of the church, smiling happily, and Santana wondered if she'd ever find someone to make her as happy as he looked in that moment.

Unbidden, her eyes landed on the blonde beside her, looking gorgeous in the red dress she was wearing, which hugged her every curve in the most delicious way. She looked away quickly, before her gaze started to linger, and forced her mind away from thoughts of a happy ending, deciding that it was much too early for her to even be considering such a thing.

She noticed Quinn toying absently with her Blackberry, held between her hands, but still jumped when she phone vibrated in her bag, loud enough to earn a look of disgust from the elderly woman sat in-front of them.

_You look hot as hell in that dress, S. _

She smirked when she read the text, biting her lip as she considered what to reply with. Decided, her fingers flew quickly across the keys, and she turned her phone to silent for good measure, pretty sure that she'd receive a hasty reply.

_Not as good as you do, Q, though I think that dress would look better on the hotel floor, to be honest. _

_That is the cheesiest line I think I've ever heard you use._

_Technically, you didn't _hear_ me use it. Just sayin'. _

_Either way. I'm sure you could do better. ;)_

_Quinn Fabray, are you _flirting _with me in a _church_?_

_Don't act like you don't like it. _

_Oh, I like it, I'm just surprised. _

_Why? _

_I don't know. Didn't you spend like, half your childhood in a church? Or is this the part where you tell me that you've always had a secret fantasy where you were fucked in one? _

_Don't be ridiculous_. But even out of the corner of her eye she could see the blush spreading across the blonde's cheeks and chuckled.

_Oh, you so totally did. _

Quinn didn't reply, and after a few minutes of waiting she turned to face the blonde with a pout. "You're no fun."

"I'm plenty of fun, thank you." She leant forward under the pretence of sliding her phone back into her bag, but as she did her lips brushed against the shell of Santana's ear. "But of course, you already knew that." Her voice, low and husky, combined with her words made the brunette's eyes flicker closed, her breath catching, and she swore in her head, because surely someone shouldn't be able to affect her the way Quinn could.

"I think something's wrong," the blonde murmured a few moments later, sounding concerned, and Santana reluctantly turned her mind away from very dirty thoughts of a naked Quinn and to the present, noticing the low buzz of voices around them, and seeing the look of devastation on Schue's face as he looked at the woman walking towards him – Sue Sylvester, not Emma Pilsbury.

"Yeah, I'd say that something is definitely wrong."

x-x-x

"Well, at least they didn't call the party off," Santana said cheerfully as she led Quinn over to the bar, both of them pulling out fake ID's in unison. Quinn scoffed, quietly, as Santana ordered a glass of wine for the both of them.

"How can you be so… blasé?"

"I like to call it optimism," she shrugged as she accepted her wine from the bartender, taking a sip as her eyes turned to the room of people before them, half already, somehow, drunk, and dancing to the cheesy music the band was playing.

"Uh-huh." Santana's eyes zeroed in on Rachel, talking to Finn, and she frowned in their direction, Quinn following her gaze. "I hope she's not going to do anything stupid. Brody's a good guy."

"Yeah, he is." She noted the way that Finn's hand came to rest on the brunette's shoulder, but she shook it off and Santana felt a flush of slight pride in the shorter brunette. "She's got enough brains to keep away from him," she decided, turning away. "And if she doesn't, well, then it's not our problem."

Her eyes strayed to Kurt, swaying to the music with Blaine, and she shook her head, understanding the appeal of wanting to go back to an old flame, but not when he had someone else waiting at home. Adam was a good guy too, and she almost felt sorry for him as she watched the way Kurt looked at Blaine, like he was the only guy in the world.

"Want to dance?" Brittany appeared before her and Quinn suddenly, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed, Sam a few steps away. She glanced towards Quinn, cautious, but she merely inclined her head towards the dancefloor, a clear indication that it was fine, so she handed her glass to the blonde and let Brittany drag her forwards.

Her arms felt stiff as she let her hands rest lightly on the blonde dancer's waist, and even Brittany was careful when she draped her arms over the brunette's shoulders, keeping a careful distance between their bodies as they swayed to the slow music echoing through the room.

"You look happy," Brittany smiled, and she merely nodded, a slightly shy smile crossing her face as she tried (and failed) to stop her eyes from straying towards Quinn. She _was _happy, more than she had been in a long, long time, even though she really had no claim to the blonde still. But, what they were now was progress.

"So do you," she countered, wanting to turn the attention away from herself. "Enjoying your senior year?" She teased, falling back into the easy familiarity that she'd always had with Brittany.

"You mean my senior senior year? It's okay. I miss everyone, though. I miss _you_." Her eyes turned a little sad, at that, and Santana's smile was a little sad, too – she missed their friendship, even if she was over their relationship now. They'd fallen out of touch a little, lately, with working so much and a million other things.

"I miss you, too."

"How's New York? Can I come visit you guys?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. That'd be cool." The smile that lit up the blonde's face was radiant, and she was still grinning when the song finished, a few moments later. Santana's hands dropped as the music stopped, turning into something different – Sam appeared over Brittany's shoulder and she spun her ex-girlfriend around, into his arms, nodding her head at him as she passed, the closest she would ever get to a blessing.

Quinn was dancing with Mike, a little way away, and she cut between them easily, pulling the blonde into her arms, eyes fluttering closed for just a second as she lost herself in the scent of her perfume.

"Where's my drink?" She asked as she pulled the blonde closer, her arms moving to reach all the way around her back, as Quinn's own arms moved around Santana's neck. She could feel every inch of Quinn's body pressed against her, every line and dip and curve, and it drove her crazy knowing that they were so close and yet there was nothing she could _do _about it – she longed to close to distance between their mouths and devour her in a kiss, ached to feel soft skin under her fingertips, yearned for the touch of Quinn's hands against her own body.

But that would have to wait, because they were surrounded by others, others who she didn't want knowing that anything was going on between them until she, herself, could define it, so she forced her eyes away from inviting lips, focusing instead on a spot just over Quinn's shoulder.

"Does it matter?"

"It does if you drank it, I paid for that shit."

"I'll pay you back." Her eyes flickered to meet Quinn's once more, and her smile was radiant as they continued to dance. "I've never slow danced with a girl before."

"You know that's not really surprising information," she teased, hands splaying across the blonde's back as she pressed them tight against one another. "And if you had, I'd want their name."

"You don't need to be so jealous all the time, you know."

"Don't act like you don't like it."

"Can I cut in?" Mercedes Jones' voice cut through their conversation as the song finished, the woman's eyes lingering on the way the pair of them were pressed together, as she gave Quinn a meaningful look. Santana stepped aside quickly, allowing Quinn's friend to take her place.

"I'll be around," she murmured to the blonde before turning and making her way off the makeshift dancefloor – she was at the edge when she noticed a flash of brunette hair disappearing around a corner, and when Rachel passed a mirror on her hasty exit, Santana could see the glitter of tears shining in her eyes.

A month ago, if she'd seen a tear-stained Rachel Berry running away from a party, she wouldn't have thought twice about it. But now, she quickly followed the retreating brunette, just catching the door of a bathroom swinging shut and deciding that it _must _be her roommate seeing as no-one else had come this way that she'd noticed.

"I know you're in here, Berry, so open up," she knocked lightly on the only closed stall when she was inside the bathroom, the sound of the soft sobs from within making her feel almost desperate to help – oh, how things had changed. A few years ago she was probably the _cause _of Rachel crying in a bathroom stall, and now she was trying to help.

"Go away, Santana."

"Not a chance in hell." After a few more moments silence, she sighed. "Look, it's obvious that you're upset, and I want to help, so open the fucking door."

The lock clicked open after a few seconds of deliberation and Rachel emerged from within the stall, hastily wiping away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. With another sigh, she almost reluctantly pulled the smaller brunette into a hug, feeling her stiffen in surprise within her arms.

"What? You looked like you needed it," she explained when she dropped her arms and took a step back, helpfully waving a tissue near the brunette's face. She snatched it out of Santana's hands and set to trying to sort out her now smudged make-up, as though nothing had happened. "You not going to tell me what's got you so upset?"

"Do you even want to know?"

"Of course I do. Whether I like it or not, your annoying little self has grown on me, okay? So just tell me what the fuck is wrong and then we can pretend that this whole thing never happened."

"Finn's just…"

"A giant asshole?" She supplied helpfully, gratified to see the brunette crack a smile. "What did he do this time?"

"He told me that he'd booked a room here for the night and thought I could stay with him."

"He propositioned you? No wonder you're crying." Rachel didn't seem to appreciate _that _joke, judging from the look she threw the Latina in the mirror, so she quickly backtracked. "What, he didn't like it when you said no? You _did_ say no, right?"

"Of course I did, I wouldn't do that to Brody."

"Good."

"Why do you care?"

"Because Brody's a better guy than Finn will ever be," Santana shrugged. "And you deserve someone like him. You also shouldn't let Finn get to you with whatever shit came out of his mouth when you said no to him. He just doesn't like not getting his own way."

"I just can't believe I almost married him," Rachel murmured, mostly to herself, Santana thought, but she heard it anyway.

"But thank fuck you didn't." A few other people spilled into the bathroom, then, cutting their conversation short, but she thought that Rachel looked a little better in herself when they made their way, together, back to the room where the party was.

Quinn was still talking to Mercedes, sat at a table in the far corner, and Santana held back from going over there, giving them a chance to catch up, instead choosing to stick with Rachel as the brunette headed to the bar for a drink.

Kurt appeared in-front of them a few moments later, face flushed and eyes happy as he held hands with Blaine at his side. Santana still didn't really understand what they were doing back together, but she wasn't one to judge and joined in on their conversation freely.

"Lopez!" Puck called, a few minutes later, from across the room. He was beside Finn, Sam and Mike, and with a sigh she made her way over to them, noting that Brittany was now with Quinn, Mercedes and a few other of the new glee clubbers.

"What's up, Puckerman?"

"How you been?"

"Alright," she shrugged, a little confused – sure, she and Puck had used to sleep together, but they'd never really been friends, and she didn't think she'd ever really forgiven him for what he'd done to Quinn, all those years ago when he'd knocked her up.

"What's up with you and Q? You seem awfully close."

"That's what friends are, though I can understand your confusion seeing as you don't _have _any."

"Ooh, burn. Seriously, though."

"Nothing's up."

"So you wouldn't mind if I went over there and asked her out? She's looking mighty fine today, I think Yale agrees with her."

"Go right ahead." She smiled, though it was forced, and it took everything in her to even utter the words – but she knew she had nothing to worry about. Puck was Puck, and Quinn would never fall back into old habits, especially now.

She didn't like the way Puck was watching her closely, but she didn't let on and soon enough he sauntered over to where Quinn was still talking, Sam in tow. Mike mumbled an excuse about going to find Tina, and just as Finn was about to leave Santana's hand snaked out, landing on his shoulder and keeping him in place.

"What the hell?"

"Stay away from Rachel." Her voice was low, dangerous, and she was gratified to see a slight flicker of fear in his eyes before it was replaced with anger – at least he still remembered her as someone not to be messed with.

"I'll do whatever I want, Santana. What's this about? You got some sort of sick girl crush on her?" He squared up to her, getting in her personal space in an attempt to intimidate her, but it didn't work. She just drew herself up, meeting his eyes.

"No. But stay the hell away from her, or you'll regret it."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Congratulations, maybe you're not as stupid as I thought." One of his hands grabbed her shoulder roughly, but she didn't even flinch.

"Don't push it, Santana."

"Or what? You gonna hit a girl?" He didn't answer her, but she could tell from the way his jaw was clenching that he was close to hitting her anyway, regardless of the fact that she was no match for him – but she didn't back down. "I mean it, Finn, leave her alone. She can do way better than a Lima loser like you, and if you claim to love her as much as you do, then you know that's true more than anyone else."

She shook herself free of his grasp and stalked off, knowing perfectly well that the end of their conversation had been heard by multiple people, their attention turning to the argument, drawn towards the drama.

Rachel, thankfully, seemed to have no idea what was going on, but as she made her way to Quinn's side, the wry expression on her face told her that the blonde knew exactly what had happened.

"Care to explain?" She murmured when she had a chance, when the others she was surrounded by had turned their attention elsewhere.

"Nope."

"Really? Because I find you springing to defend Rachel's honour _fascinating_."

"Shut up." Quinn laughed, a musical sound, and she smiled softly in spite of herself. "I want to get out of here," she breathed into the blonde's ear when no-one was looking, and she heard the hitch in her breathing and smirked as she leant back to stand upright. "Now."

"So demanding."

"Mm-hmm." Mercedes was watching them carefully again with a knowing look, and Santana wondered how much Quinn had told her, but decided that that was a matter that could wait, just for a little while. They didn't have much time to be together as it was; she had no intention of wasting it.

"I think I'm going to call it a night, guys," Quinn spoke up, loudly, as Santana melted away to let Rachel know she wouldn't be around for the rest of the party, and also check that the brunette was feeling a little better. She was still with Kurt and Blaine, and she was laughing as the brunette approached.

"Hey," she greeted as she came to a stop behind the little group. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. And thank you, for standing up for me."

"I knew I was stupid to think you wouldn't have noticed that."

"Well I did. And I appreciate it, really." Her eyes shone with sincerity and the corner of Santana's mouth lifted into a genuine smile.

"No problem. I'm actually heading off now, so…"

"Oh? Alone?" The brunette teased, and she threw a warning glance at her roommate, conscious of Kurt and Blaine's listening ears – Kurt knew about her impromptu trip to visit Quinn, but he didn't know exactly what had happened whilst she was there, not really. Only Rachel knew about that.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She teased back, smirking. "Don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone, okay? I'll see you tomorrow night for the trip back. It was nice seeing you again, Blaine."

"You too," he replied, and the other two bade her goodnight before she turned to make her way to the lobby, where Quinn had texted her to meet her. Sure enough, the blonde was already there, leaning against the wall by the elevator and looking absolutely stunning.

"I thought you were going to stand me up for a second there," Quinn called when she noticed the brunette, pressing the up button beside her as she waited for Santana to join her.

"As if," she murmured back, practically shoving the blonde inside the elevator doors when they chimed open. As soon as the button for Quinn's floor was pressed her hands sought out the blonde's hips, yanking her close as she crushed their lips together, moaning softly at the feeling.

They separated only when the doors opened on the blonde's floor, and she let Quinn drag her down the hall, wondering, as impatient hands tugged at the hem of her dress as soon as they'd cleared the hotel room door, how she'd managed to get so lucky.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Just a little note to say there is a POV change in this chapter for the last scene - usually I prefer to keep a whole chapter to one person, but originally I was going to have that scene in the next chapter but decided it fit better in this one, instead. **

**I also have good news and bad news - the good is that I should be able to update a lot more regularly from now on; the bad is that that's because this story is nearing its end. I've never had a story on here go for longer than twenty chapters, and it feels right to me for this to follow that same pattern. **

* * *

"Why do you look so happy?" Kurt asked as he strolled into the living room of the New York loft, shoving Santana's outstretched legs, resting on the coffee table, out of the way as he passed before throwing himself down into the empty seat beside the brunette.

"Hey, don't touch the merchandise," she protested, folding her legs under her instead, expression indignant as she glared at her roommate.

"I wouldn't have to if you kept your feet off of the furniture," he replied smartly. "And you didn't answer my question."

"I know I didn't."

"She's so happy because Quinn's coming up here this weekend," Rachel called out from where she sat opposite them, holding her phone out towards them to show the blonde's name at the top of the text she'd apparently just received.

"I am _not_," Santana muttered, darkly, picking up her phone from where she'd dropped it onto her lap a few seconds ago and firing off a quick text – _thanks for spilling the beans to Rach, now I'm going to get teased all night thanks to you. _

"Uh-huh," Rachel replied, smirking, and Santana retaliated by yanking the cushion she was leaning against away from her body and chucking it towards the shorter woman, who squeaked in alarm as it hit the side of her head. "Santana! What the fuck?"

"You asked for it," she shrugged, as Kurt chuckled beside her, holding his hands out before him as Rachel's glare turned on him.

"What? It was funny!" He defended, and Santana grinned, but it quickly dropped when he turned his attention to her. "So, what's going on between the two of you now?" He asked, trying, and failing, to sound nonchalant – but she could see the curiosity shining in his eyes.

"Nothing," she answered quickly, perhaps too quickly judging from Kurt's raised eyebrow. She glanced at Rachel warily, but the other brunette was looking pointedly away, Santana was glad to see. The diva knew far too much about her and Quinn for her liking, but she hadn't had much choice in the matter.

"Right," Kurt answered, managed to fill the single syllable with heavy sarcasm, but he seemed to accept that she wasn't going to be forthcoming with any more information. Her phone buzzed with a text, and she glanced down to read Quinn's reply: _Sorry, she's been pestering me for days asking when I'm next coming up, I had no other choice. And teasing, huh? Bet you love it really_.

_There's always another choice, Q, always. And really, really don't. Might do if it was you teasing me though ;) _

She sent the reply before she could back out – she'd exchanged a few flirty texts with Quinn over the last few weeks, since the wedding, but she wasn't usually so forward; a part of her was half afraid that the blonde would change her mind about their little arrangement, even though the time they'd spent together since agreeing it was pretty concrete evidence that the blonde felt the same way.

"Isn't it Quinn's birthday this weekend?" Kurt mused aloud, and Santana nodded absently, preoccupied by the chime of her phone as it rang with Quinn's reply.

_Oh really? Maybe I'll test that theory this weekend, if you're not careful. _

_That really isn't any incentive to _not _be careful, Q, trust me_.

"Well, we could have like, a little party here and then go out? I don't know, what do you think, Santana?" She tuned back into the conversation just in time to see both her roommates turn their eyes on her.

"Uh… what?"

"For Quinn's _birthday_, Santana, keep up. What do you think she'd want?"

"Oh. She probably wouldn't want us to go to too much trouble…" She trailed off, because she had a plan for Saturday that didn't involve anyone other than the two of them.

"And are you sure you're not saying that just because you want to spend the entire weekend in bed with her?" Rachel smirked, and Santana bit her lip to stop herself replying scathingly.

"_No_. She told me – I can show you the text if you don't believe me," she added, when she was the sceptical look on the shorter brunette's face.

"Well we should still do something," Kurt interjected, looking thoughtful. "Even if it's only something small."

"I could make a cake!"

"Um, Rach, I don't think that's a good idea," Kurt spoke quickly, and Santana nodded vehemently to back him up.

"Yeah, we don't want to give her food poisoning."

"I wouldn - "

"_Anyway_," Santana cut Rachel off, speaking loudly over the rest of the brunette's sentence. "I have to get ready for work, and I'll leave you two to the party planning."

"I thought Wednesdays were your day off?"

"They are, but I'm working extra time so that I can be off at the weekend," she shrugged as she rose elegantly to her feet, and studiously ignored the pointed look that Kurt threw Rachel in response, not really caring to know what they thought. "I'll see you two losers tomorrow."

She was out of the door less than five minutes later, a spring in her step. She was looking forward to seeing Quinn again, even if she'd have to share the blonde with Kurt and Rachel – three weeks was definitely too long a time for them to be apart.

x-x-x

Muffled voices woke Santana from her afternoon nap on Friday afternoon, and she grumbled to herself and pulled the covers tighter over her head in response, wondering why Berry hadn't piped the fuck down seeing as she knew how late she'd been working the last two nights –it was worth it to be able to spend as much time as possible with Quinn, but God, was she exhausted.

After a few more minutes she decided that there was no way in hell she'd be able to get back to sleep and shoved herself upright with a sigh, calling through to the other room as she pulled on some sweatpants over her previously bare legs.

"I honestly don't understand how you can talk to fucking much, you know, especially when people are _sleeping!_" She yanked her curtains back irritably with the last word, and took a surprised step backwards when she ended up face-to-face with Quinn, who was smiling at her sheepishly.

"Sorry I woke you," she murmured, voice soft, and it took Santana a few moments to compose herself enough to be able to answer.

"I thought you weren't coming until later?" She asked, confused, and wondering if she'd managed to sleep through her alarm, carefully set so that she had enough time to go and meet the blonde at Grand Central when she got there, but a glance at the clock beside her bed told her that no, it was definitely still only 4 in the afternoon.

"I was, but my last lecture of the day got cancelled so I decided to come earlier," she shrugged. "Is that a problem?" Her voice turned teasing, a half-smile on her face – she looked radiant, framed in the weak sunlight filtering through the nearby window, and Santana realised then that she'd just been passed out a few moments ago, and probably looked like hell. She ran an absent hand through her messy hair, and prayed that she didn't have make-up smudged across her face.

"Well, yeah. It's just inconsiderate to be early, I mean really, Q." For a brief moment the blonde took her seriously, but that soon faded as she reached out playfully to shove the brunette backwards – lightning quick, Santana caught her hand and pulled her forwards until their chests bumped together, and she pressed a light kiss to the blonde's lips. "Of course it's not a problem. I missed you."

"I missed you, too." One of Quinn's hands wrapped around the nape of the brunette's neck, fingers playing absently with a few strands of dark hair, and Santana's eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, a content sigh leaving her lips. "So much."

They kissed again, but it was less chaste and more hungry, as Santana's hands moved around the curve of Quinn's hips, tugging her closer as her mouth opened to the blonde's searching tongue. The hand buried in her hair tightened as her fingertips danced beneath the flimsy material of the white t-shirt the blonde wore, and she splayed her hands across the small of Quinn's back, the skin warm beneath her touch.

"I wondered where you'd gotten to, but now I understand." Rachel's wry voice had the same effect as a bucket of cold water would have, and they split apart hastily.

"Well, I did tell you about coming in here without warning," Santana replied smartly, one arm still looped around the blonde's back – she used it to pull Quinn into her side, not quite ready to leave the blonde's touch just yet.

"I can't exactly give warning when you're in full view."

"Not my problem," Santana shrugged, and she grinned when Rachel rolled her eyes in response. "Did you want something?"

"I was just wondering what the plan was for later, but it can wait," Rachel decided, tactfully closing the curtains to Santana's room behind her as she left, giving them a few moments of privacy.

"What plan?"

"Well, it is your birthday tomorrow," Santana replied, fingers drawing absent patterns on the blonde's back, and she smirked a little at the shudder that rocked through Quinn's body in response.

"Yeah, tomorrow, not tonight."

"The others are all out tomorrow, so we figured we could do something tonight instead."

"Did you, now? You didn't bully the others into letting us have the night alone now, did you?"

"As if they'd listen to me if I tried."

"True." Quinn murmured, mouth pressed against Santana's neck, and she left a lingering kiss against the brunette's pulse point before straightening up, eyes dark. "As much as I'd love to stay in here for the whole weekend, we should probably try and be sociable for at least some of tonight."

"But that's boring," the brunette pouted, which just made the blonde's smile widen. "Fine, but later tonight you're _all mine_." Her voice lowered as she breathed the last two words into the blonde's ear, feeling her shiver, and she smirked, mind already racing with the possibilities for later that night.

Rachel, Brody and Kurt were all in the other room when they emerged from the brunette's bedroom, ready for party planning. Santana just reclined on the couch, legs stretched over Quinn's lap as the four of them decided what to do that night.

It was eventually decided that they'd go out for food and then come back to the loft before going out somewhere, and they all dispersed to get ready. Quinn retreated into Rachel's room, which was probably for the best – she had no idea if she could keep her hands to herself if they were getting changed around one another.

The dress that Quinn had chosen was black, edged with lace, and stopped mid-thigh, which, when coupled with the sky high heels she was wearing, gave her legs for miles. Her eyes raked over the blonde's figure openly, and she was already starting to calculate what a suitable time to make their excuses and come back to the apartment would be.

"Everyone ready?" Rachel looked amused as she asked, and Santana had little doubt that it was a result of her reaction to the blonde's outfit, but she didn't care.

Adam joined them at the restaurant that they'd agreed on, an Italian the heart of Manhattan, and it made the whole evening feel like a triple date. It was nice, though, to be out with everyone, and she revelled in being reunited with the blonde again – even though it had only been three weeks since the wedding, it felt like an age.

"So, where are you guys heading to later tonight?" Adam asked as they were leaving, a couple of hours later - he was meeting friends somewhere and wasn't travelling back with them.

"I don't know yet, where are you off to?" Kurt was the one to answer, and Santana wondered when he'd become the type to have two guys going on at the same time – she almost felt a little proud of him, even if it did seem like he had absolutely no idea what he wanted.

"We're going to a karaoke bar, if you want to join us?"

"Hell no," Santana interjected, having already been subjected to similar nights out in the city with Kurt, Rachel and Brody, and having absolutely no desire to repeat the experience. She studiously ignored Rachel's pout, and the shorter brunette turned her eyes to Quinn, pleadingly.

"It's for your birthday, you should decide."

"I…" Quinn stalled, and Santana pounced on the opportunity, leaning close to the blonde's ear so that only she would be able to hear her low whisper.

"If you agree to karaoke, I will not have sex with you tonight."

"You wouldn't," Quinn murmured back, but there was a hint of doubt in her eyes as one of Santana's eyebrows raised in challenge.

"Wanna bet?"

"Maybe we should just go to a bar or something tonight," the blonde suggested to the others, and Santana grinned in triumph. "I haven't really been out much here in the city, after all."

"You cheated!" Rachel accused Santana, still pouting, but the brunette merely shrugged in response. "Fine," the diva finally agreed, and they parted from Adam soon after, with the promise to meet up again soon.

Back at the loft Quinn got her birthday presents from the other three, Rachel practically vibrating with happiness as she handed the blonde a carefully wrapped gift, and Santana watched with some interest – she had no idea what any of the others had gotten the blonde , after all.

"Where's my one off you?" She asked Santana after she'd opened the others, shrugging herself into the black cardigan that Kurt had gotten her.

"You'll get it tomorrow," she answered simply, ignoring the pout on Quinn's face at the news.

"You're no fun." Santana merely grinned, and by then it was time for them to get ready to go out – she just decided to stay in the same blue dress and small silver heels, but of course Rachel had to change her whole outfit, and she dragged Quinn into her room to help, too.

It was another hour before they were back outside again, and Santana was already growing impatient at being around the others for so long – she loved them, she did, it was just… sometimes they got a little overbearing.

By her third tequila shot of the night, though, in the first bar they stopped in, she was starting to have fun. Rachel regarded her distastefully over the rim of the fancy cocktail she'd ordered, but the Latina ignored her and just took a swig from the bottle of beer that she'd also ordered.

"I want to go _dancing_," Rachel decided, soon after, and the flush on her cheeks and the excitable way that she spoke made Santana wonder just how _much _alcohol was in that cocktail, because she sounded pretty drunk already.

But it was still a good idea, and before long they'd moved onto a club, and Santana felt much better once her arms were wrapped around Quinn's body on the dancefloor, shooting dirty looks at any guy who looked like he thought he might have a chance with either of them.

"Having fun?" She asked as whatever shitty song was number one currently boomed through the speakers, leaning close the blonde's ear in order to be heard.

"I'd be having more fun if we were alone," came the breathy reply, as the blonde's hands, previously resting on the brunette's hips, trailed deliberately downwards, her fingers leaving a trial of fire in their wake, across the bare skin of Santana's thighs.

"We don't have to be alone to have fun," she replied, mouth already lowering to the blonde's lips – Quinn crushed herself closer, mouth opening readily beneath the brunette's, their tongues sliding against one another as Santana's hands fisted in blonde hair.

Quinn's hands were constantly moving as they kissed, dancing along her thighs and then up her sides, brushing along her skin, and she inhaled sharply when they pased her breasts, the touch lingering.

The room around them melted away as the blonde's nails dug sharply into her hips, and she gasped, a thigh sliding between the blonde's legs and pressing hard against her centre, feeling the heat against her bare skin.

When they parted she was breathless, and she could feel Quinn panting against the side of her neck, her thigh still wedged tightly between the blonde's legs; Quinn's was pressed against her too, and whenever she moved a spike of heat shot through her entire body, and it was as torturous as it was delicious.

"I think we should get out of here," she suggested, breath ghosting across the blonde's bruised lips, and Quinn nodded mutely – she took her hand tightly in her own and wove her way through the crowd, catching Rachel's knowing eye as they left.

It felt like an excruciatingly long journey back to the loft, and as they were sat on the subway, the blonde pressed tightly into her side, she itched to yank the hem of Quinn's dress up, to fuck her until she was screaming her name, but she didn't think Quinn would be very appreciative of her trying to do that in a crowded subway cart so instead, she settled for resting the palm of her hand on her upper thigh.

"When are you going back to Yale?" She asked, the silence between them comfortable but also not doing anything to stop her racing mind.

"Sunday night, why?"

"Just wondering how long I get you for."

"I'd stay for longer with it being spring break, but my Mom wants me home for a few days and then I'm heading up to Cali for a few days to see Em's family."

"Sounds fun."

"Beats sitting around in my dorm room alone," Quinn shrugged, and Santana nodded in agreement, wishing that she was staying for longer – but she didn't voice it, because frankly the way she needed Quinn startled her, and she didn't want the blonde to know it, not yet. "Are you staying here for the holiday?"

"Have to, I'm working. I don't mind though, money's money."

"Do you not want to do anything else?"

"Like what? I can't get into any colleges this late, and I'm not sure I want to, either."

"What about classes at NYADA? Don't look at me like that," Quinn said hastily when she saw the look on the brunette's face as they stepped off the subway and onto the platform, the loft only a few minutes' walk away now. "You can deny it all you want but I know you loved glee club – maybe you'll enjoy classes there."

"I don't even know what I'd take."

"How about dancing or something? I know cheerleading didn't work out, but you'd make a great dancer."

"That was always Britt's thing," she said uncertainly, but she couldn't deny that it had a certain appeal – she _did _like dancing, but she'd never thought about doing it as anything other than a hobby, not really. "I'll think about it."

Quinn nodded, seemingly satisfied, and their conversation dropped as soon as they cleared the door into Santana's building, Quinn practically pulling her up the stairs that led to her floor. She yanked the door open quickly, and as soon as it was shut behind them the blonde's mouth was on hers, devouring her with the kiss, setting her head spinning.

She let the blonde shove her against the nearest wall as her hands ran along Quinn's back, mapping every inch of skin as impatient fingers shoved up the hem of her dress. The blonde's lips descended down the slope of her neck, nipping at the skin in a way that made her gasp and had her eyes fluttering closed.

"_Quinn_," she breathed when the blonde yanked her dress over her head, letting it drop unceremoniously to the floor and leaving her in nothing but the red strapless bra and matching underwear she'd donned that morning, and her heels.

The blonde's hands were everywhere at once, it seemed, running across her stomach, palming her breasts, and digging into her thighs before her fingers were hooking around the outline of the panties she wore, hiking them down just enough for her hand to slide into the gap, fingers running teasingly through the wetness beneath.

Santana's head fell back against the wall behind her with a thump, her eyes fluttering closed as a single finger pressed into her heat, and the blonde's lips attached to the side of her neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the juncture where it met her shoulder.

"God, I missed you," the blonde breathed against her skin as her finger slid out of the brunette and then slowly back in, a thumb grazing her clit with _just _enough pressure to make her hips buck upwards as a ragged moan left her lips.

"Stop teasing, Q," Santana ground out after a few more minutes of torture, the blonde continuingly bringing her close to edge before slowing down, and then starting again. It left her aching for release, and her breathing came in quick pants as her hand snaked between her and Quinn's bodies in a desperate attempt to get herself off.

"Ah, ah," Quinn's free hand caught the brunette's wrist and pinned it above her head, her other hand stilling within the brunette, who groaned in frustration.

"_Quinn_," she whined, but the blonde merely smirked, and Santana couldn't help but think how hot she looked like this, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her eyes dark and hooded as they met her own openly.

"I distinctly remember you sending me a text to encouraging me to tease you not so long ago," Quinn pointed out, voice a tone lower than usual.

"I take it back. God, I take it back, please, Q, just - " She cut off with a whine of frustration as the blonde pulled her hand free, but it quickly turned to a moan when she felt Quinn's breath against her stomach, and she glanced down to see that she'd dropped to her knees in-front of the brunette, and was tugging her underwear down her legs.

She stepped out of them and the blonde threw them somewhere over her shoulder – Santana didn't really see, or care, where, because the next second Quinn had draped one of the brunette's legs over her shoulders and had pressed her mouth to her core, tongue swiping across the length of her in a way that had her leg shaking so hard that it was a wonder she could even remain standing.

Two fingers pressed back into her as the blonde's lips closed around her clit, tongue flicking across its surface in time with the rhythm she was setting, and it wasn't long before she was coming undone, one hand pressing the blonde's head closer, her heel digging into her back, probably painfully, but she didn't utter a sound of protest.

Quinn didn't stand until her walls had stopped pulsing around her fingers, and her heart had stopped racing, and when they kissed she could taste herself on the blonde's tongue.

x-x-x

"_Santana Marie Lopez!" _Rachel's shrill voice made the brunette jump the next morning – she'd been awake for a while, content to watch Quinn snoozing beside her. Not in a creepy way, though. She just looked adorable when she was asleep.

Warily she straightened up in bed at the sound of the furious tiny footsteps heading her way, and made sure that the covers were pulled up high enough to hide any hints of naked skin beneath.

"Can you explain to me, please," Rachel huffed as she wrenched the curtains to Santana's room open, standing outside them and holding the dress the brunette had been wearing in one hand, her expression disapproving. "Why _this_," she brandished the dress forward, as though Santana wouldn't notice it otherwise, "was flung over the back of the couch?"

"Um…" she trailed off, waiting for a smart ass answer to come to her, but she was cut short when Kurt appeared behind Rachel, a look of mild disgust on his face as he held the pair of lacy panties she'd also been wearing last night gingerly between his index finger and his thumb.

"And don't forget about these." He dropped them to the floor just inside the brunette's room and adopted a similar stance to Rachel, glaring at her and the still-sleeping blonde beside her.

"Santana!" Rachel hissed when she noticed what Kurt had been holding. "Was it really that impossible to keep it in your pants until you got to the privacy of your own room?"

"I'd hardly call this private. And besides, have you not noticed that those are both _mine_? It's Q that can't keep it in her pants, not me."

"_Oh my God_," she heard from her left, and she smirked at the mortification she heard in those three words - apparently Quinn wasn't as asleep as she wanted them all to think.

"Don't act like you and Brody only do it in your room – I've seen you at it on the couch on at least two occasions," she pointed out, feeling immediate gratification at the flush that coloured her roommate's cheeks.

"Not the point!"

"Uh, yes it is."

"Not!"

"Yes it _is_! Why do you get a free pass, then? God, you're such a hypocrite - "

"Quinn," Kurt cut Santana off, and she glared at him for the interruption but he ignored her to focus his attention on the blonde beside her. "I know you're busy trying to pretend to be asleep and all, but I think you'd better wake up and calm these two down before they kill each other."

"We can have a civil conversation without resorting to that, Kurt."

"Don't be stupid, Berry, of course we can't." Quinn laughed at that, softly, before turning over with a sigh, levelling Rachel with an even look across the room.

"It won't happen again," she assured the brunette, and Santana frowned.

"Whoa, now let's not get too hasty there, Q." The blonde turned to glare at her, but there was no true malice in the glance – and even if there was, Santana wasn't sure she would have taken it seriously anyway, because somehow, even dishevelled after a night of awesome sex followed by sleep, Quinn was even more beautiful than when she was perfectly put together.

"Santana, not helping."

"Not helping is what I do best," the brunette remarked before falling back against her mattress, crossing her arms behind her head so she could still level Rachel with an even look. "I thought you were all for this happening anyway, Berry."

"I was 'all for' the two of you to stop dancing around the issue of admitting the way you felt; _not _for you having sex god knows where."

"Not my problem," she shrugged, enjoying the frustrated sigh that got out of her roommate in response. "You can leave now."

"That was rude," Quinn murmured once Rachel left with another huff, the blonde rolling over to press her face into the brunette's shoulder, and one of Santana's hands drew idle patterns across the smooth expanse of Quinn's lower back.

"I don't care. She should keep her nose out of our business."

"That might be a little difficult for her to do when our clothes are strewn across the apartment."

"Technicalities." Quinn grinned at that, the issue forgotten as Santana leant down to press a gentle kiss to the blonde's lips. "Happy birthday, Q."

"Do I get presents now?"

"Isn't my presence enough for you?"

"Mm, no." Quinn grinned as Santana swatted at her arm lazily, pressing their lips together one more time before rolling out of the bed and heading over to the corner of her room, digging into the bag that lay there and pulling out the thin box that lay beneath before sliding back under the covers and presenting it to the blonde, biting her lip as she watched Quinn open it, feeling suddenly nervous.

"If you don't like it I can take it ba - " She was cut off by Quinn's mouth pressing against hers, the brunette's arms wound around her waist to pull her closer, sighing in content when their bare chests pressed together.

"Don't be stupid, I love it," the blonde murmured when they broke apart, fingers playing idly with the pendant that Santana had bought, many weeks ago, in anticipation of this day. The design was a simple silver heart, and in the upper corner was Quinn's birthstone. "It's beautiful."

"Well so are you, so it's a perfect match." The blonde's eyes lifted to meet hers, and her breath caught at the emotion there – but the implication of that wasn't something that she wanted to dwell on. She was over Brittany, so, so over her, but the prospect of starting a relationship with Quinn, of admitting that she was falling in love with her… no, she wasn't ready for that just yet.

Or that was what she was going to keep telling herself, anyway.

So she cleared her throat and forced a smile, trying not to let anything that she was feeling show on her face. "Come on, get up, we have plans."

"We do?" Quinn asked as Santana kissed her lightly on the cheek before hopping to the floor. The brunette merely nodded as she pulled on underwear and jeans before throwing the blonde's bag onto the bed.

"Want breakfast?" The brunette asked when she was ready – Quinn was still only half-dressed, and Santana was well aware that the blonde's morning routine would mean that she'd still be a while.

"Toast is fine," was the distracted reply, as the blonde started meticulously applying make-up that, in Santana's opinion, she didn't really need.

"Alright, see you in a few." Rachel and Kurt were, thankfully, nowhere to be seen as the brunette made her way to the kitchen. Brody was eating cereal at the kitchen table, and glanced up with a smile as she made her way over to him.

"I heard you had a pretty wild night," he commented as she shoved two pieces of bread into the toaster. She shrugged non-committedly before turning around to see him eyeing her curiously.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just, uh, whatever you have going with Quinn? Don't fuck it up." He glanced away quickly, but not before she saw the hint of concern in his eyes, which surprised her – she knew that he and Quinn were friends, but she didn't know they were all that close.

"I'll try," she murmured quietly, because much as she didn't _want _to ruin things, her and Quinn's track record wasn't exactly stellar. Still, that seemed to appease him and he dropped the subject, soon leaving to wander into Rachel's room just as Quinn emerged from Santana's.

"I'm impressed, you usually take longer," the brunette commented as the blonde approached, wordlessly handing her a plate with her toast on it, along with a glass of orange juice.

"Ha ha," Quinn replied, dryly, as she perched next to the brunette at the table. "So where are we going?"

"Secret."

"Oh, come on, S. It's my birthday, you're supposed to be nice to be."

"I _am _being nice to you," she pointed out as she stood to wash her own plate, Quinn hovering behind her.

"But - "

"But nothing." She cut the blonde off, spinning around so that they were facing and taking a step forward so that they were pressed together, unable to resist the lure of the blonde's mouth for much longer.

The kiss was a little more heated than she intended, but she welcomed the pressure of the blonde's tongue against her lips and her lips parted easily, readily, as her hands grasped Quinn's slender waist, fingers splaying against the warm skin.

Quinn's arms were wrapped around her neck tightly, one hand playing absently with a strand of Santana's hair in a way that made her hum lightly in contentment – it turned to a delighted groan when the blonde's hand tightened and yanked her head back, exposing her neck to Quinn's searching mouth.

Her eyes rolled at teeth grazed her skin, her hips surging forwards to try and find a little friction as she bit her lip hard in an attempt to keep herself quiet. When Quinn's mouth moved upwards to kiss her again she forced her backwards so she was pressed against the counter, her hands sliding down to grasp at her ass, revelling in the low moan at the gesture.

"Oh my _fucking _god, will you two just cool it for five seconds? Jesus." Rachel's voice cut through them like ice, and they broke apart, Quinn hiding her head in the crook of Santana's neck, clearly mortified. Santana, on the other hand, thought the expression on Rachel's face was kinda funny.

"Hey, at least we're not naked," she pointed out, helpfully.

"Unbelievable," Rachel muttered darkly under her breath before spinning on her heel and disappearing back into room.

"I think we should get out of here before Rach throws us out," Quinn murmured, and Santana had to agree – she did still need a place to live, after all.

x-x-x

"What is this?" Quinn asked, pausing outside of the huge building that towered before them, confused and sure that Santana had brought them to the wrong place. She heard the brunette in question sigh in exasperation as she came to a stop beside her.

"It's museum, Q. What are they teaching you at that oh so prestigious college you go to?" Quinn shoved her shoulder hard, and Santana stumbled a step backwards, grinning.

"Seriously."

"Come on, you love stuff like this. Don't pretend that you haven't been itching to come here on every one of your trips to New York ever."

"But you hate this sort of stuff."

"But you don't, and it's your birthday. Come on." Still a little stunned, she let Santana take her hand and lead her towards the slight queue that had formed outside the huge double doors that were the entrance to the Natural History Museum, and couldn't stop a happy smile from crossing her face at the sight – she really _had _been wanting to come here, but she hadn't wanted to come alone, and Rachel had never really been enthusiastic about it. The fact that _Santana _had thought to bring her was in itself remarkable, regardless of what date it was.

This was a whole different side to Santana – kind, caring, compassionate, and a world away from the best friend she'd come to know during her years in high school. Their friendship had been volatile at best, but she hadn't really known any different - she'd needed Santana, even back then, regardless of the fact that every other day they were at each other's throats.

Santana insisted on paying, despite her protests, and seemed content to just let her lead the way, eyes trained on her face as they wandered from exhibit to exhibit, floor to floor, with a soft smile on her face that made her wish that she knew what the brunette was thinking.

She'd always been fascinated by museums, and loved going to them, learning as much as she possibly could in the few hours she spent there. History and biology were particularly fascinating, enough for her to take some classes in the former in her first semester at Yale, but she'd come to the decision that she enjoyed it more as hobby than as an education.

After a couple of hours she could sense Santana getting restless at her side, and decided to call it a day – she tried to object, but weakly, and there were out of there a little while later. It was sunny out, and they chose to meander through Central park for a bit before heading back to the loft, content to snatch just a few more minutes of alone time. It wasn't that she didn't want to spend more time with Rachel, Kurt and Brody, it was just… nothing, really, compared to time with Santana.

"Thank you, for today," Quinn murmured when they paused to sit in a small clearing beside some trees, her back resting against the trunk, Santana at her side.

"It's no big deal," the brunette shrugged, but Quinn was pretty sure that it was. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and a quick glance at the screen told her it was a happy birthday text from Emilia. She typed out a quick reply under Santana's watchful gaze, and saw, out of the corner of her eye, the face she pulled when the screen flashed with the redhead's name.

"You're not still jealous of her, surely," she murmured, fighting a smile as she raised her eyes to lock with indignant brown.

"Of course not. I just don't like her."

"Why? Because she's pretty hot and she's my friend?"

"You think she's hot?"

"That was not the point," Quinn groaned, shaking her head. "You know," she lowered her gaze to her hands, playing idly with the strands of grass under her palm, "technically you have no right to be jealous, anyway."

"Why?"

"You said you didn't want a relationship," the blonde shrugged, trying to act as though she wasn't holding her breath, wondering if she was pushing this too far, too soon. "So technically, you can't be jealous."

"So, what, you want to sleep with other people?" When she chanced a glance upwards it was to see a look of anger clouding on the brunette's face, and she shook her head.

"No, of course I don't." As if anyone else could even _begin _to compare.

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm _saying_, what's the difference? What's the difference between what we're doing now – the sex, the exclusivity, the date that has been the entirety of this day – and a relationship? What would change?"

Santana was quiet for a long time, then, leaving her with nothing but her own thoughts, which cursed her for possibly ruining whatever was blossoming between them, but she hadn't been able to hold it in for much longer – it'd been on her mind ever since the wedding, only intensifying now that they were here, together.

"I don't suppose there's really much difference," Santana spoke, eventually, after what seemed like an age, her words slow, as if she could scarcely believe what she was saying. "How long has this been bothering you for?"

"Not long," Quinn replied with a noncommittal shrug, but the way the brunette looked at her made her thing that she hadn't fooled her for a second.

"I've never exactly done this much, you know. Britt and I didn't exactly start off conventionally, did we? And aside from that, I've never… I've never had a relationship before."

"Is this your roundabout way of saying that you don't know how to ask for one?" In spite of herself, her lips started to quirk into a smile, which, of course, Santana noticed and took the complete wrong way.

"And now you're making fun of me."

"No, no, I'm not," the blonde spoke hastily, one hand reaching for one of the brunette's, lacing their fingers together. "It's just… I think this is the one and only time that I've ever had more experience than you in anything, ever."

"Well you don't need to brag about it," Santana muttered, sullenly, and Quinn grinned, leaning forward so that their faces were only a few inches apart.

"Santana Lopez, would you do me the honour of being my girlfriend?" It was cheesy, and probably overused, but it made the brunette smile, which was what she'd been after. And when Santana leant forward and kissed her hard enough to see stars, and murmured _yes_, against her lips, she was sure that she was the luckiest, and happiest, girl in the world, even just for now.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Should be posting a chapter every other day from now on, as they're all written. Just another quick thank you to everyone who reviews/favourites/follows this fic, you're amazing! **

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_Two months later…_

It was dark when Quinn arrived at home for the summer – there were few people at the station when the train pulled up, and only a handful exited the train with her. It had been an exhausting day of travelling, and she was just ready to crawl into bed.

Her mom met her on the platform, smiling happily, though Quinn couldn't say she felt the same way. It was nice, to be finished for the summer, to have a couple of months away from the stress of weekly assignments, of her final exams – which had gone, in her opinion, surprisingly well.

Or so she hoped, anyway.

"Quinn! I've missed you," Judy Fabray wrapped her daughter in a tight hug before taking one of the blonde's two suitcases and leading her towards the car that sat in the parking lot, letting her mother chatter on about everything that had happened since Quinn had last been home.

She'd only been back to Lima briefly for about a week, during Spring Break, instead opting to spend the rest of it in New York with Kurt, Rachel, Brody and, more importantly, Santana. The thought of the brunette brought a happy smile to her face – she'd never thought, not really, that they could ever be happy, but… They were, pretty much.

That wasn't to say it was always easy. Being apart so often was hard; she had only been to New York twice since they'd gotten together, and the brunette had only been able to come up to New Haven once, because she'd started dancing classes on-top of her job, which took up a lot of her spare time.

Her home looked much the same as usual, except there was a foreign car in the driveway – Quinn eyed it warily as she slid out of the car, hauling her bag out of the trunk. "Who's is that?" She asked Judy, who looked hastily away.

"Well… Don't take this the wrong way, Quinnie, but…" The use of the old nickname tipped the blonde off that _something _was wrong – her Mom hadn't called her that for a long, long time. "Well, your father's home."

"_What_?!" She felt cold, all over, right to her bones, sure that she must be mistaken because no, there was no way, no possible way, that she could spend the summer in a house with Russell Fabray... _especially _in light of her recent relationship developments.

Not that she had planning to present Santana to her mother as her girlfriend, but, still. She'd been planning on vaguely broaching the subject of sexuality while she had the chance, just to see what Judy said, but now? With Russell's influence?

She wouldn't stand a chance.

"Look, I know that this isn't ideal for you, but - "

"_Ideal_? Mom, he _threw _me out when I needed you both more than ever, he hasn't even tried to contact me since! And you, what, suddenly you're just forgetting all about that?"

"No, Quinn, of course not. But just hear him out, okay? He wants to apologise."

"If he wanted to apologise he had his chance – three years' worth of chances, but he never took any of them. But now that he's moved back in he conveniently wants back in my life and sees all the wrong he's done? Sorry, Mom, but I'm not buying it. And I'm not staying under the same roof as him."

"Quinn, just listen - "

"No, I don't want to listen, Mom, I want to get the hell out of here." She saw Russell's shape looming up at the front window and she took a few steps backwards, still clutching at her things desperately. She didn't know where she could go, but she knew that she didn't want to confront her father – not tonight, and maybe not ever.

"You can't just leave, you only just got here!"

"Yeah, well maybe you should've thought of that _before_ you invited him back home," Quinn countered, furious as well as upset, as she fished her phone out of her pocket. Thankfully she had her car keys in her back, and she grabbed them next, glad that her car wasn't blocked in by the others – it meant she could make an easy getaway. "I mean it, Mom, I'm not staying here with him. I'll call you when I've found somewhere to stay."

She ignored Judy's protests as she headed towards her car, shoving her stuff into the backseat and then pulling away, ignoring the look of concern on her mom's face as her headlights illuminated her figure – her face was taut as she watched the blonde drive away.

When she was around the corner she pulled her car to a stop, slamming her hands down on the steering wheel in anger, frustration – of _course _when things in her life had just started to look up, something like this would happen.

She had a few people in mind for who she could stay with, but the first was the only one she really wanted to – she prayed that her friend would pick up, and after three rings, Mercedes voice crackled through the phone.

"_Hey, girl, are you back in town?"_

"Unfortunately. I know it's a lot to ask, especially 'cause we haven't seen each other in a while, but… Can I ask you a huge favour?"

"_Of course you can. What's up?"_

x-x-x

"I can't believe she took him back," Mercedes murmured later, after she'd welcomed the blonde into her home with open arms. Quinn felt like she was fifteen years old again, pregnant and with nowhere else to go, and it wasn't a good feeling.

"Yeah, me either." The blonde was lying on her back on the camping bed that the brunette's parents had set up for her in Mercedes' room. It was late, but she wasn't really tired, despite the long journey home. "The annoying thing is, if I'd have known beforehand I wouldn't have even bothered coming back here."

"Wouldn't you have been lonely in New Haven?"

"I'd have gone to New York." She knew her voice was wistful, but she didn't care – three months in the loft with Santana would have been a dream. "How long are you home for, anyway?"

"Couple of months," her friend shrugged. "I'm not really getting anywhere at the moment, my agent advised me to take a break for a little while, so… here I am."

"Sorry, it must be hard being all the way out there alone."

"Yeah, especially seeing as Puck came back here, too. He wasn't much company, but… Still better than nothing." The blonde murmured an agreement before her phone rang, and she sighed in relief when she saw her girlfriend's name emblazoned across the screen – Santana had been working when Quinn had called her before, and she'd left her a message telling her to ring when she was back home.

"Do you mind?" She asked Mercedes, not wanting to be rude – but she merely smiled and shook her head.

"Go ahead."

"_Hey, are you okay_?" Santana asked as soon as the blonde picked up before she even had the chance to utter a word – it was loud, wherever the brunette was, the sound of cars rushing by, and people chattering echoing through the phone. _"I got your message, you sounded worried._"

"No, I'm okay, I guess."

"_You guess? Who do I need to kill?" _

"No-one," Quinn replied, a smile crossing her face in spite of the day she had – cheesy as it was, even just hearing the brunette's voice helped to cheer her up. "Well, unless you want to take on my dad…"

"_What? What did the bastard do?" _The blonde explained, Santana silent throughout, until she'd finished. "_Your mom's got some issues, babe."_

"Yeah, I know," she sighed. "But there's not really anything I can do about it. But I'll be okay here."

"_I'll come home early._"

"What? No, S, you can't, you have your dance classes to - "

"_Fuck them, you're more important. And I want to see you. I'll make them up at some point, don't worry. And don't try to argue with me either – I'm coming back as soon as I can, okay?_"

"You're impossible."

"_Don't act like you don't love it_. _Look, I gotta go get on the subway, I'm not home yet – do you want me to call you later?"_

"No, it's okay. Let me know when you're coming back here, though?"

"_Of course I will. Stay safe, Q, and I'll see you soon._"

"Bye." When she hung up, Mercedes was looking at her with a raised eyebrow, and Quinn suddenly felt self-conscious. "What?"

"Nothing. Just… You seem really happy."

"I am. We figured everything out and… I am happy. _She _makes me happy. More than I ever thought I could be."

"You deserve it," Mercedes replied with a genuine smile, before settling back against the pillows of her bed. "Now, get some sleep, Quinn – we have a big day tomorrow."

The blonde smiled, curling up under the covers of her temporary bed as her friend turned the lamp, the only source of light in the otherwise dim room, off, casting them into darkness. She closed her eyes, feeling more content than she really thought she ought to – her family life was in chaos, after all. But she knew that this time, unlike the last, that no matter what, she had people around her, to support her, and that made all the difference.

x-x-x

"It's always weird coming back here," Quinn commented the next afternoon as Mercedes pulled her car into a parking space outside of McKinley. The brunette had agreed to help Mr Schue prepare New Directions for regionals by watching the show they'd put together, and Quinn had tagged along.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I can't believe it's been a year since we left." It was quiet in the halls, the school day finished, but as they neared the auditorium the sound of music grew louder the closer they got.

Quinn felt so much different, now, to a year ago. She felt like her whole life had done a one-eighty since her graduation – Santana and Brittany had still been together, as had Finn and Rachel. She'd been single, and relatively happy about – and she definitely hadn't been having inappropriate thoughts about her best friend. She'd been totally focused on Yale, more than anything else.

She hadn't even been sad to leave, not really. The halls held too many memories, and not enough of them good. They passed a toilet where once upon a time she'd tortured Rachel Berry; walked through the hall where she and Santana had fought about the brunette's plastic surgery; the room they used for glee club, where Finn had broken up with her.

Inside the auditorium people milled around, and there were already some familiar faces sat in the chairs on the front row. Mike grinned up at them, standing to envelope them both in a hug, and even Quinn couldn't even bring herself to turn away when Puck moved to hug them both, too.

"Hey, baby Momma," he muttered once Mike and Mercedes had stepped off to one side, lost in conversation, leaning close to her. "I heard that Shelby's going to be in town within the next couple of days. She said we could visit, if we wanted."

"Seriously?" Quinn had to admit, after her actions during senior year towards the adoptive mother of her child, she was surprised that Shelby would be willing to see her again, but Puck nodded at her question.

"Yeah. She said that she's willing to overlook all the shit that happened last year, as long as nothing like it happens again. Up for it?"

"Of course." In spite of herself, she felt her eyes sting with tears at the thought of seeing Beth again. She knew that giving her up had been the best decision, for the both of them, but that didn't mean that it didn't still hurt. She tried not to think of the little baby girl that she'd given up too often – it was just too painful. "Just let me know details."

"Cool." He smiled, and she saw then a little of the guy who had tried his hardest to pull together enough money to try to help her, all those years ago. She still hadn't entirely forgiven him for knocking her up in the first place, didn't know if she ever truly would be able to, but she was starting to be able to separate the good from the bad. "I will."

The show started soon after, with Quinn sliding into a seat beside Mercedes, Schue and Finn on her other side. The new New Directions didn't hold a torch to the old club, in her opinion, but they were still pretty good. And maybe she was a little biased.

Afterwards they all went to Breadstix's to celebrate, and Quinn found herself alone with Finn for a brief moment as they waited for a table. "Hey," he started, as though he'd only just noticed that she was there. "How's Yale?"

"Good," she replied, knowing that he really didn't care and that he really wanted to ask her something else. "What's up?" He flushed a little at being found out, but she knew him too well – they'd been together for a good year, after all, and been friends long after.

"I just… How's Rachel doing?" He ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair, and she almost felt sorry for him. She knew that, in his own way, he _did _care for the brunette, a lot. But he was wrong for her in so many ways; she couldn't help thinking that, maybe if they'd met further down the line, they would have been a perfect match.

"She's great."

"Oh." He looked a little taken aback, as though he'd expected the brunette to just mope around without him – Quinn had to fight the urge to roll her eyes, despite being able to sympathize with him a little. "Is she coming back to Lima in the holidays at all?"

"I don't know, I think so. I know that she's spending some time down with Brody's family in Montana, though."

"Oh. What's he like, this Brody guy?"

"Look, Finn, I'm not here to be interrogated about Rachel's life in New York just because you're not over her, okay? You wanna know this stuff, ask her, not me."

"She won't pick up the phone." He glanced down at his shoes, but not before Quinn saw the flash of pain in his eyes and she sighed, laying a comforting hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry. But she's happy now, I think. And you deserve to be happy now, too. Maybe now's just not the right time for the two of you."

"I guess." He looked like he wanted to say something else but then they were called away by Puck, announcing that their table was ready, and Quinn sat away from both of her ex's, instead sitting between Brittany and Mercedes.

She immersed herself in the conversations around her, happy to be around the old gang again. It was nice; to be able to go away for months at a time and then come back like no time had elapsed at all.

Some things had changed, though – she noticed that Blaine kept looking at Sam in a way that she didn't deem entirely platonic, and that the blonde in question was no longer attached to Brittany's side.

"Hey," she murmured to Brittany quietly while the others were still talking. "What's going on with you and Sam?"

"Oh, we broke up," she replied simply, as though it was old news. Quinn wondered if it was. "I got accepted to MIT and he got weird, and… I guess it just didn't feel right anymore."

"Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that, you guys seemed really great together."

"Yeah, well," Brittany merely shrugged. "But don't worry - I don't want to get back together with Santana. I don't want to get in the middle of you two."

"Thanks." Quinn had no idea if Brittany knew anything about her and Santana's relationship, but she didn't elaborate on it, content to just enjoy spending time with her old friends.

x-x-x

"I feel like I should be offended that you're so ready to leave," Mercedes commented a couple days later, as Quinn was loading her bags into the trunk of her car, ready to drive over to Santana's – the brunette had gotten back to Lima the previous night, but had sounded so tired on the phone that Quinn had told her she'd come over the following day instead.

"You know it's not personal," Quinn grinned, stepping back from the car and wrapping her friend in a hug. "Thank you, for letting me crash here. And I'll see you again soon? Puck's having a pool party next week right?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. Keep in touch." She released the blonde, who climbed into the car with a wave, backing out of the driveway and making the short journey over to Santana's. She was filled with excitement, fully feeling the effect of being away from the brunette for so long – she practically flew at her as soon as she was out of the car, her arms sliding around the brunette's neck as she pulled her close, drowning in the familiar scent of her perfume.

"Hey, stranger." She pulled back with a smile, and didn't pull away when Santana leant down to connect their lips briefly, not caring who saw – a world away from what her reaction would have been just a few short months ago.

"Hey." They separated only in order to grab the blonde's stuff, Santana carrying most of it. She stopped the blonde just inside the doorway with a hand on her arm. "I hope you don't mind but I told my Mom everything – just, she wouldn't be very happy if she found out that we were together while you were staying here without me saying anything."

"It's okay, I figured you might. I'm guessing she was okay with it?"

"Okay with it?" Maribel's voice echoed through the hall as she came through from the kitchen, wide smile on her face. "Of course I am! Come here." She wrapped Quinn in a fierce hug, and Santana laughed at the expression on the blonde's face.

"I think you're suffocating her, Mom."

"Nonsense. I'll leave you to get settled in, Quinn, you know where everything is – I don't care what the two of you get up to when you're alone as long as I don't have to know about it, you hear me?"

"Jesus, Mom, okay." Quinn flushed with embarrassment at the implication and even Santana had the grace to look horrified, but Maribel merely chuckled as she disappeared back into the kitchen. "I am so sorry."

"It's okay," the blonde laughed, following the brunette up the stairs. "It's actually kind of refreshing."

"Yeah to you, maybe." As soon as her bags were set down on the brunette's bedroom floor and the door was shut behind she pulled Santana close, hands curling around the curve of her hips as she tilted her head to the side and pressed their lips together.

It started off chaste, but then Santana's hands started to wander, grabbing at her shirt and edging it upwards as her fingers splayed across the skin of her back before moving further upwards, tracing up her ribcage. Quinn moaned, low in her throat, when the brunette's hands moved to palm at her breasts, pulling the cups of her bra down to get better access.

"We are not," she started, pulling away from the brunette's lips, voice breathless, "having sex while your mother is downstairs."

"Why?" Santana pouted, but her hands didn't still – one of her thumbs brushed teasingly against one of the blonde's nipples and her eyes fluttered closed, teeth closing on her bottom lip in order to keep herself quiet.

"Because she could come up here." She batted the brunette's hands away, holding her wrists in her hands.

"She doesn't care."

"Well _I _do. Learn some self-control," she teased, leaning forward to press one last kiss to the brunette's still pouting lips, before letting her hands go.

"I have no self-control when it comes to you."

"Tough." Santana mumbled something under her breath as Quinn turned away to unpack her things, and she whirled back around, raising an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"Nothing," the brunette replied hastily.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You gonna help?"

"Nah."

"Bitch."

"That's me." Quinn's lips curved into a smile as she unzipped her suitcase, as Santana leapt onto her bed, lying on her stomach so she could watch what the blonde was doing. "How long do you want to stay here for?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, shuffling aside some of the clothes in one of the brunette's drawers to make room for her stuff. "It's your house, it's up to you."

"Well Rach and Kurt are coming back in a couple of days, so we can always go after that? Then we'll have the place to ourselves."

"We'll have to spend _some _time with them before we go back. Besides, I told Mercedes I'd be at Puck's party next week."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Well, we can go after that, if you want? I don't mind."

"Sure." Finished unpacking she crawled onto the bed beside the brunette, curling into her side and pulling a tanned arm across her waist. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." Santana dropped a gentle kiss to the blonde's shoulder, before resting her chin there. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"Sure." They separated only for long enough for Santana to set up the TV and to sit the right way up on the bed, then resuming the same position, with the brunette holding the blonde close. They didn't speak much, but words weren't necessary – they were both just content to be reunited.

x-x-x

"I don't know what you want me to say, Mom." Nearly four days later, Quinn had reluctantly agreed to meet Judy, after ignoring countless phonecalls and text from her mother, she'd finally given in the night before. Which was how she'd ended up sat in-front of her in the Lima Bean, wringing her hands nervously, unable to shake the feeling that Russell would suddenly leap out from behind a corner.

"I understand that it's hard for you, Quinn, but he's changed - "

"How do you know? What did he tell you? Have you just _forgotten _that he threw me out on my ass when I had nowhere to go? That you _let _him? I forgave you, because you're my Mom and I love you, but I can't… I can't forgive him. You were there for me, in the end. But he never was."

"If you just gave him the chance to explain - "

"Why should I? He had his chance. _Years _of them, actually. I thought you happy without him." The blonde's hands shook as she took a sip from the smoothie she'd ordered, and she caught Santana's eye from across the room – the brunette had insisted that she was sticking close to the blonde and had stayed true to her word. She was sat with Mercedes a few tables away, and though they were talking, her eyes never strayed far from Quinn's.

"It's hard to just… let go of years and years of marriage, Quinn. We were happy, once upon a time. Before the drinking. I wanted to give him another chance. I hope that you can, too."

"I can't," she murmured, and she heard the anguish in her own voice – a part of her, a tiny, tiny part almost wanted to believe what Judy was saying. Russell hadn't always been cruel and unyielding; she had childhood memories that she looked back on fondly, of a time when they'd all gotten along, even her and Frannie. And as that man had faded, she'd still held out hope that maybe one day she'd get her father back again.

But then he'd throw her out, and she'd told herself to grow up – that her father was gone, and that she didn't need him, anyway.

"Why not?" Judy's face was gentle, her eyes not unkind as they searched the blonde's face. Quinn sighed heavily, keeping her gaze trained on the table in-front of her because she was saw that if she looked up, she'd waver, and now wasn't the time.

"Because," she started, taking a deep breath. "I think I'm gay. And there's no way in hell that he'd be able to accept that. I don't even know if you can. I don't even know if telling you in the first place is a good idea, but here we are. I lied to you last time, when I was pregnant, and look where it got me. Maybe I'm better off being honest."

When she'd finished speaking she chanced a glance upwards, just to see what the likely fallout would be. But Judy didn't look as horrified as Quinn had thought she would have done – maybe that was a good sign.

"Are… are you sure?"

"Yeah, Mom. I'm sure. Real sure."

"I don't… I don't know what to say."

"How about 'I don't hate you'? That'd be a start."

"Quinn…" Judy trailed off, her hand coming to rest tentatively ontop of her daughters, resting on the table. "I could never hate you – you're my daughter, and I love you. But this is quite the surprise, you'll have to… give me some time to adjust. Can you do that?"

"Can you leave Russell when he finds out and throws a fit?"

"He might not, you know."

"Come on, Mom. Do you really believe that?" The elder Fabray worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, and Quinn leant back in her chair, knowing she was right. "Sorry to spring this on you."

"It's okay. Are you happy?"

"Yeah." Again, the blonde's eyes landed on Santana, and she had to force herself to look away. "Yeah, I really am."


	18. Chapter 18

"You okay, Q?" Santana's voice made the blonde jump, and she dropped her phone, which she'd been twisting round and round in her hands. It clattered to the wooden floor of the brunette's bedroom, startlingly loud in the silence.

"Yeah, I… Uh, Puck just texted me."

"Oh?"

"He's been talking to Shelby and she said that we could go and visit sometime soon and we can go today." Her mind was still on the message, her heart still racing as she replayed the words over and over in her head – _she could see her daughter again today_. The thought filled her with trepidation as much as it did excitement. It had been so long, after all, since she'd last seen her; _she'd _changed, but how much would Beth have changed? Would she even remember her?

"That's great news, Q." Santana's voice was encouraging, as was her smile. "You heading there before the party?"

"Yeah, I think so. Would… would you want to come with me?" The words sprang to her lips without conscious thought, and she could see that the question was unexpected from the look of surprise that flashed across Santana's face. "I just… I'd feel better with you there. But you don't have to, it's okay if you don't want to."

"No, no, if you want I'll go. You sure the others won't mind?"

"They'll get over it," Quinn shrugged, not really caring what Puck thought and sure that Shelby wouldn't mind. She deliberated for an age over what to wear, finally settling on a simple sundress with sandals.

"Stop worrying, babe," Santana murmured, pressing a light kiss to the blonde's cheek as she passed her to step into the adjourning bathroom. "You'll be fine."

It wasn't long until they were on their way, Santana driving with Quinn giving directions; their hands were clasped the whole time, resting on Santana's upper thigh. Puck's car was already there and he was leaning against it, waiting for them.

"What are you doing here, Lopez?"

"None of your business," the brunette replied smartly at she hopped out of the car, pausing to wait for Quinn to join them.

"She's here 'cause I asked her to be, and that's all you need to know."

"What's the deal with you two, anyway?" He asked as they made their way to the front door together, and he knocked twice on the wood before letting his hand drop. "You together or what?"

"Why do you care?" It was Santana again who answered, her hand resting comforting, and possessively, on the blonde's lower back.

"Just asking," he replied, defensive, but he held out his hands in-front of him in a gesture of surrender. "But okay, whatever. Sorry I asked." The sounded of hurried footsteps came from the other wise of the door, and Quinn held her breath as it opened, her stomach fluttering with nerves.

"Hey," Shelby answered the door with a smile, before stepping aside to let them inside. "Glad you could make it."

"I hope that you don't mind that I brought someone else," Quinn spoke hastily as she took a hesitant step over the threshold of the house. "I just… needed the support."

"That's alright," the elder woman smiled softly, gesturing for the three of them to move inside and shutting the door behind them. "She's in there." Puck made to walk ahead immediately, but Quinn's eyes strayed back to Santana – the brunette stepped forward to take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and pulling her forward.

They paused in the doorway, watching as Puck grinned widely at the little girl sat within the centre of the room, playing with her army of dolls. She smiled up at him, and he knelt down to her height, laughing in delight as Beth threw her arms around his neck.

"Go on, Q," Santana murmured into her ear, giving her an encouraging push forward at the small of her back – she felt like her legs were encased in quicksand, but somehow she managed to move forward, until she was stood just behind Puck.

"Quinn!" Beth called, and the blonde felt tears gather in her eyes at the fact that she had _remembered_, that she knew who she was, and she too knelt down to give her daughter a hug.

She was perfect, in every way, from the bright blue eyes and golden blonde hair down to the tiny fingers that grasped at the back of Quinn's neck as they hugged. She pushed the tears away as Beth released her, and promptly started to order her and Puck around, telling them all about how to host the perfect tea party.

She could hear Santana and Shelby speaking behind them in low voices, and wondered what they were talking about. It was only when Beth marched Puck into the other room in order to help her find another one of her toys that she had the chance to straighten up, turning around to face the pair of them.

"How have you been, Quinn?" Shelby asked as the blonde made her way over to them, needing to stretch her legs after being on the floor for so long. "You're at Yale, right?"

"Yeah, I am and I'm good, thanks. How about you?"

"Not too bad, keeping busy."

"And Beth?" It still hurt, sometimes, to say her name, but it wasn't as bad now, that she'd seen her in the flesh for the first time in many long months.

"She's good, really good. She's starting pre-school in September, I can't believe how fast the time's gone." Beth reappeared then, dragging Puck by the hand. She pulled him over to them and stopped, gazing up at Santana with wide eyes.

"What's your name?" She asked, dropping Puck's hand and taking another step closer, clearly fascinated with the brunette, all other matters fleeing her mind as she focused on trying to make a new friend.

"Santana."

"I'm Beth."

"I know who you are, kiddo," the brunette replied, ruffling the girl's hair gently with one hand. "You're kinda famous, you know."

"I am?"

"Yep."

"Come play with me." Beth gave the brunette little time to disagree, simply grabbing her hand and expecting her to follow. Puck chuckled and leant back against the kitchen counter behind him, watching the pair interact.

"She's actually good with her," he remarked after a couple of minutes.

"You sound surprised," Quinn replied, catching his gaze when he turned to look at her. He looked happier than she remembered seeing him in a while, and she wondered if she wore the same expression of contentment and amazement that he did.

"Well let's be honest, Santana doesn't exactly give off warm and fuzzy vibes."

"I guess." But the brunette didn't look out of her element. If anything, she looked more comfortable than Quinn felt herself around her daughter.

"How long have you two been together?" It was Shelby who spoke, and Quinn started, at first thinking she meant her and Puck – but then she saw the way the elder woman's gaze was still on Santana, and understanding clicked in her brain.

"Not long." She decided that lying wouldn't get her anywhere, and unless she was mistaken she saw a flash of respect cross Shelby's face at her honesty. "Couple months."

"Really? Seems like longer."

"We were friends, before." Quinn was aware of Puck's curious eyes on her face but she ignored him. "You really don't mind that I brought her?"

"Not at all. She's obviously important to you, and she's great with Beth. It's actually a good thing – there's another reason why I asked you both here today, aside from seeing her again."

"Oh?" Both her and Puck's eyes turned to meet Shelby's, and Quinn tried to keep any worry from her face, wondering what on earth the elder woman could want.

"Don't look so worried, Quinn, it's nothing bad. As you know I've never wanted to lie to Beth about where she came from, and she wants to know the both of you. And I don't have a problem with that, if you two are willing. Like I said, she starts pre-school soon so we won't be moving around as much – I know you're busy with Yale, Quinn, and I don't know your plans for next year either, Puck, but if you're ever in town and want to come and see her, just give me a call, okay? And I'll see what I can do. And you can bring Santana along with you whenever you like, Quinn. I think Beth would like that."

x-x-x

"Thank you for coming today," Quinn murmured when they were back at Santana's place a while later, starting to get ready for Puck's party. They were going to be late – _Puck _was going to be late, and it was at his house, but Quinn couldn't help but think that it was worth it.

"It's not a problem, Q, really. I had fun. And she's really cute – just like her mommy." The brunette leant down to kiss the blonde's lips gently before dancing sway from Quinn's reaching hands. "Ah, ah, we have places to be. I'm going to grab a quick shower, okay?"

"Sure." Santana pecked at her lips once more before straightening and disappearing into the bathroom, leaving her alone. It was only after she'd put some light make-up on and was about to get changed before she realised something – she hadn't actually thought to bring a bathing suit from home with her when she'd left.

"S?" She moved over to the bathroom door, but the shower was still running and she didn't know if the brunette could hear her. "You got any spare bathing suits?" Receiving no response she decided to just grab one anyway, knowing where they were kept from the many times she'd stayed over.

It was the same place Santana kept her underwear, and Quinn paused to admire some of the garments inside – some that she'd never seen the brunette wear, but would definitely _like _to. Cursing herself for getting distracted she pawed through the drawer quickly until she found a couple of bikini's, selecting the least revealing one and pulling it free – but it caught on something underneath and she frowned, confused.

She stepped closer and pulled the drawer out further, sliding the bikini free and noticing straps from something else underneath – without thinking she grabbed that, too, and then nearly had a heart attack when she ended up pulling out a strap-on along with it, the straps being the harness it attached to.

She froze, eyes widening slightly – she hadn't even known that Santana entertained the idea of having sex with a strap-on, never mind that she actually _owned one_. And then, of course, the door to the bathroom opened and Santana herself appeared in a cloud of steam, wrapped in nothing but a towel that only went to mid-thigh. She stopped, taking in Quinn's expression, and then noting what she was holding, and then burst into laughter.

"This is not funny!" Quinn hissed, dropping the toy back into the drawer where she'd found it, the brunette's laughter only enraging her. "At all!"

"The look on your face is pretty fucking funny, actually," the brunette managed to speak, though not without effort, and she was still fighting off a smile when she came to stand before the blonde. "You know, Q, if you'd wanted to know about my extensive sex toy collection you could have just asked, instead of going looking for it yourself?"

"Extensive?" The blonde all but squeaked, hung up on that word rather than the rest of the sentence, which just made Santana start laughing again. "Still not funny."

"But it _is_, seriously, I want to take a picture of your face right now. It's okay, you know. I'm not expecting you to want to use it, which is _why _I didn't mention it."

"But why do you have it if you don't like using it?"

"I never said I didn't _like _using it," she pointed out as she started to run a towel through her damp hair. "Just that we don't have to." Quinn took that in, unable to stop her eyes from straying back over to the phallus, unable to stop her mind from conjuring up the image of Santana wearing it, fucking her with it – and God, all of a sudden _she _was the one needing a shower.

A cold one.

"I… Wouldn't say that I'd be opposed to the idea." She was mortified to even utter the words, but she was curious what Santana would say to that – she had her back to the blonde, but Quinn saw her stiffen, probably with surprise.

"What?"

"You heard me," she muttered, cheeks flaming red, and then Santana was in-front of her, her fingers gently tilting her head upwards so that their eyes met.

"Hey, don't look away. You shouldn't be embarrassed about this stuff, you know. Not with me."

"I can't help it." The brunette's thumb moved gently to trace across her bottom lip, and her eyes fluttered closed as it was replaced with a pair of warm lips.

"If you're only saying this cause you think I want to do it, then - "

"I'm not," she cut the brunette off, her eyes opening to meet swirling brown. "I'm not. I… I want to. _Really_." That damn image was still in her head, and judging from the wicked smirk that flashed across Santana's face, she knew _exactly _what the blonde was thinking.

"Okay, then," the brunette spoke, decided, her voice turning husky as she turned her head so that her mouth was pressed to the blonde's ear. "Later, when we get home from this party, I will fuck you so hard that you won't be able to stop yourself from screaming my name."

x-x-x

The party was already in full swing by the time they arrived, and as soon as they were in Puck's backyard Quinn was pounced on by Rachel, practically tackled by the force of the hug.

"Whoa, Rach, don't suffocate her - that'd be highly upsetting." It was Santana who spoke, but there was an easy familiarity to her voice, and her smile was genuine as her eyes met her roommate's – Rachel even hugged her too, which took both Quinn and Santana by surprise.

"We missed anything fun?" The blonde asked as they made their way forward, the goal of getting a drink in mind. There was a temporary bar set up to the side of the pool, which was already a hub of activity – countless people were in it already, playing games.

"You missed Finn trying to square up to Brody."

"Fuck, I would've liked to have seen that." Santana almost looked sad as she grabbed two bottles of beer from the make-shift bar counter, handing one to Quinn wordlessly. "What happened?"

"Whole lot of nothing, really," Rachel shrugged. "I wouldn't fancy Brody's chances in a fight, though, he's not really the type."

"I think Finn would probably beat the shit out of him," Santana agreed, eyes taking in the scene before them. Quinn waved at Mercedes, on the other side of the pool, and her friend waved back, motioning for her to come over to where she, Tina, Kurt and Brody were sat.

"You coming?" She asked the other two, who followed her over – Kurt shuffled closer to Tina to let Rachel perch on the end of one sunlounger, and Mercedes and Brody moved over to allow the other two to sit down, but before Quinn could move Santana's arms were around her waist, pulling her down so that she was sat on her lap.

They'd both agreed days before that this party would be their official 'coming-out' of sorts, saving them from having to tell people separately – or at all, if they acted like a couple all night. Which Quinn had absolutely zero problem with.

"I heard you had a run in with Finn, Brody?" Santana was the first to speak, laughing at the look of discomfort that crossed his face.

"You could say that."

"Don't worry, if anything happens, I got your back."

"Oh, thanks. I appreciate your confidence in me," he replied sarcastically, and Quinn smiled at their banter.

"Please, you'd _need _my help."

"I would _not_," he looked affronted, but quickly changed the topic. "How you been, Quinn? Haven't seen you for a while."

"Good, you? How were your finals?"

"They were alright," he shrugged. "I'd ask you the same but seeing as you're a brain box I don't need to." She blushed a little at the compliment, and he grinned. "You coming to see our show?"

"Of course. I'll be in the front row," she promised. He had the lead in the summer production NYADA was putting on – it was that big of a deal that it was being performed in an actual Broadway theatre instead of at the school. Rachel and Kurt both had roles, too, but there were more minor.

"Santana's refusing to come," Kurt pointed out, and Quinn twisted in the brunette's arms.

"What? Why not?"

"I was only _joking _when I said that, Jesus," the brunette huffed, and Quinn laughed at the offended expression on her face. "I'll be all supportive roommate, don't you worry."

"Anyone up for a game of Shoulder Wars?" Puck called over, leaning over the edge of the pool closest to them, an inquiring eyebrow raised. "Santana? You and Britt are the reigning champions."

"I…" Santana trailed off, eyes straying to where Brittany was resting, beside Puck, a hopeful expression on her face. "I don't know."

"It's okay," Quinn murmured, trying to keep her voice low so that the others wouldn't here. "I know you like it, go on." She stood to let the brunette out, and after a moment she rose to her feet, too, pressing a lingering kiss to the blonde's lips before pulling her dress neatly over her head and dropping it to the floor, making her way over to the pool and sliding into the water easily.

Quinn sat back down, trying to keep her eyes away from Santana's body as she stood in the centre of the pool with her hands on her hips, waiting for the other pair to appear, Brittany at her side.

She'd never really liked the game herself – she liked staying on the _surface _of the water, rather than being dunked underneath it. It was fun to watch, though, she had to admit, and Santana and Brittany made a pretty good team. Santana was always the attacker, sitting astride Brittany's shoulders as they took on anyone who dared – they had yet to be beaten, even by any of the guys.

Puck and Kitty were the first ones to take them on, and it took exactly twenty seconds for Santana to dunk the blonde unceremoniously into the water, a look of delight on her face as she did it. Marley and Jake didn't fare any better, and neither did Mike and Sugar; after that, only Puck and Finn were stupid enough to try and topple the brunette from her perch.

They didn't succeed, though it was certainly a more interesting fight than any other the others, with Puck being a better match for Santana than the girls had been. But her dislike for him seeped into her movements, and eventually she managed to shove him back just enough to unbalance Finn beneath him, sending Puck crashing off of his friend's shoulders.

"No-one else wanna try? Come on. Q?" Santana's eyes sparkled at they met the blonde's, and Quinn's breath caught a little in her throat. As much as she wanted to take up the challenge that she saw written over the brunette's face, she knew she wouldn't stand a chance.

"I don't have a partner," she answered, and Santana shook her head wryly, recognising the avoidance and not standing for it.

"I'm sure someone will go with ya."

"I will." Brody was the one who spoke up, and Santana appraised him carefully, a glint of respect, and warning in her eyes.

"Brody, I don't think that's such a good idea," Rachel added hastily, actually looking concerned for her boyfriend's welfare. "She's vicious."

"She's not going to maul her own girlfriend, Rach, come on," he pointed out, rising to his feet and extended his hand out towards Quinn to help her up. "Besides it looks like fun."

"You and I have very different definitions of the word fun," Quinn muttered as she accepted his hand and let him pull her up, ignoring his laugh. She shuffled out of the dress she'd put on previously to reveal the slightly too revealing for her liking bikini that she'd stolen from Santana.

The water was cold when she slid into the pool, knocking her breath from her lungs for a few seconds until she started to get used to it. Then she hopped easily onto Brody's shoulders, immediately disliking the unstable feeling she got from being unsupported aside from his hands around her calves, trying to keep her in place.

"Well this is going to be interesting," Quinn heard Puck call, but she didn't take him on – her eyes were fixed on Santana, the smirk on the brunette's face only serving to make her heartrate pick up in her chest, because that was a look that she knew very well, and it usually led to incredible sex.

"Okay," Puck leapt neatly into the pool to stand in-between the two pairs acting as referee. "On three… One, two, three!"

Both Brody and Brittany lurched forward at the same time – Quinn felt unbalanced, but she still managed to grasp hold of Santana's upper arms without falling, feeling the brunette's hands wrap around her biceps, nails digging in almost painfully.

Brody was stronger than Quinn had thought – he surged forward another step, forcing Brittany to move backwards. It wasn't much but it was enough to send Santana leaning backwards, and Quinn pushed harder, her competitive edge starting to set in – when it came to Santana, she _always _had to try to win, without fail.

"This is kinda hot, you know," Santana murmured conspiratorially a moment later, and Quinn started, her head whipping upwards to meet the brunette's eyes.

"What?" She knew that the brunette was probably just trying to distract her, but her words still sparked desire within the blonde's body, only made her more hyper-aware that their bodies were just mere inches away from touching.

"You heard me. Just let me win, and I'll let you do whatever you want to me when we get home..." She trailed off suggestively with a wink, still smirking, and Quinn's mind flashed through a plethora of images, before she reminded herself of where she was – and that she was _not _letting Santana manipulate her into losing.

"You'll let me do that anyway," she replied smartly, before putting as much of her weight as she could behind her next push. It had the desired effect, sending the brunette sprawling backwards, an expression of comic surprise on her face – but unfortunately, her grip on Quinn's upper arms was too strong, and she ended up yanking the blonde into the water, too.

She choked on a mouthful of water as she went down, not expecting it, and clung desperately to the brunette underneath the water, letting her drag her to the surface. There must have been a panicked look on her face when they reached it, because on her hands moved to cup the side of her face gently, her eyes worried.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she managed to reply, coughing slightly, the taste of chlorinated water still wrong in her mouth. "Just wasn't expecting it."

"Yeah, me too."

"Earth to the lovebirds?" Puck's voice cut through the haze of Quinn's brain, too overcome with the realisation that she was pressed, chest to chest, with her very hot girlfriend. "It was a tie. Do a rematch."

"No way in hell, Puckerman," Santana fired back, only glancing away from Quinn's face in order to glare at him. "Show's over." He grumbled something else that Quinn didn't quite catch, but she didn't mind as Santana's hands gently guided her to the edge of the pool. Brody handed her a towel when she was out, offering his hand for a high-five.

"Congrats, partner," he grinned, running his other hand through his wet hair. "You were really good."

"Technically you didn't win," Santana pointed out, wrapping her own towel around her shoulders. "Just saying."

"Don't be an asshole," Quinn replied, laughing when Santana's gaze turned to her, disbelieving look on her face. "What? You were."

"You're lucky you're pretty."

"I know." The blonde ducked out of the way of Santana's arm as it came to swat at her shoulder, and instead caught her hand as it fell, pulling her closer and sliding an arm around her waist, resting her head on the brunette's shoulder, joining in freely with the conversation between their friends who had gathered around them, and feeling more content than she had in a long, long time.

x-x-x

As soon as they'd cleared the door to Santana's bedroom they were kissing, Quinn's mouth desperately needy as she pressed her tongue into the brunette's mouth, her hands clutching her close as Santana backed her up towards the bed.

The brunette's hands gathered up the thin material of her dress, pulling it up over her hips and then pushing her back on the bed – she landed on the edge, her legs opening automatically to accommodate the brunette's body in-between them.

"You are so fucking hot," Santana breathed into her ear before her mouth moved down the column of her throat, tongue laving a hot line back up to her ear, and then she was kissing her again, hard enough to bruise her lips and leave her completely and utterly breathless.

Santana had been teasing her all night, with light touches to her skin whenever eyes turned away from them and whispered promises in her ear about what, exactly, the brunette would do to her once they were alone.

So she was already more than ready for Santana's hands on her body, her skin aflame, heart pounding, and there was a desperate ache between her legs that yearned for attention – when a passing hand brushed against her she gasped, her hips pressed forward automatically against the pressure.

"Jesus, Q." It was a reverent murmur against her mouth as Santana felt how wet she was, and two fingers moved teasingly over her sex through the flimsy material of the bathing suit she wore, and a loud groan escaped the blonde's lips at the contact.

"Please," she murmured, her head falling against Santana's shoulder, panting against her skin. "Don't tease me."

"But where would be the fun in that?" Santana moved away suddenly, smirking, and Quinn pouted, too slow to trap the brunette in place. "Take that off," she indicated with a wave of her hand as she moved away, gesturing to the dress that was hiked up on the blonde's hips. Quinn obliged, standing up and letting it drop to the floor, watching carefully as the brunette moved over to the drawer the blonde had discovered that morning. "Are you sure you still want to do this?"

"God, yes." Quinn's eyes were dark as she watched the brunette pick up the harness and another thin strip of material – when she came back to the blonde's side she saw that it was a silk blindfold.

"Do you trust me?" The brunette murmured, voice husky, and Quinn only nodded, not sure that she'd be able to speak. Santana's hands moved to tie the blindfold around her eyes, and then to the straps of the bikini she still wore, stripping her bare and then guiding her back to lie on the bed. "I'll be right back."

The telltale sound of the bathroom door closing echoed through the room a few moments later, and the wait for the brunette to come back out was agonizing. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was on fire, and as her mind raced with thoughts of Santana fucking her with one of the toys she had her arousal only increased, until the ache between her legs couldn't be ignored any longer and her hand slid down her body without her even thinking about it.

Two fingers slid through wet heat and she moaned softly when they skidded across her clit, her hips pressing upwards. She circled lazily, pressing her mouth into the side of her other arm in order to keep herself quiet.

She heard the bathroom door re-open a few moments later, but her mind was too hazy with desire to stop – she heard Santana's sharp intake of breath as she took in the sight of her girlfriend getting herself off on the bed in-front of her, feet flat on the mattress and legs spread apart as far she could manage.

"Jesus fucking _Christ_, _Quinn_." Santana's voice was breathless, but the blonde still didn't stop – she was too close to the edge, could feel a pull in her stomach as her fingers pressed inside, the palm of her hand moving over her clit and making her moan. "Take that off."

The blonde heard the command and yanked at the blindfold with her free hand, her eyes landing on the brunette across the room, who was watching her with rapt attention, eyes wide and breathing laboured, her gaze locked on the way the blonde's hand was moving between her legs.

She cried out the brunette's name when she came, her eyes falling closed in pleasure as she rode out her orgasm, and when she opened them again she saw Santana was still watching her, with eyes so dark they looked black.

It was only then that Quinn noted the straps around Santana's waist, and the phallus that sat between her legs, and she bit her lip in apprehension, suddenly nervous. But when the brunette all but bounded over to her, covering the blonde's body with her own as she kissed her deeply, she started to feel a little better.

"That was sexy as hell," Santana murmured against her mouth when their lips parted, and Quinn felt the light pressure of silicone against her sex and pressed her hips forward experimentally – both she and Santana moaned at the sensation, and then they were kissing again, hands roaming freely.

Santana's hands seemed to be everywhere, one minute raking down her thighs and then over her ass as her tongue flicked across one of her nipples lightly, sending her into overdrive. Her fingers were fisted into dark hair, pressing Santana closer, her other hand clawing at the small of the brunette's back.

"I need you," she gasped out through moans as Santana kissed her way back up to her mouth, her hand having moved between the blonde's legs, sliding easily through her wetness until three fingers pressed into her suddenly, stretching her. "Oh, _fuck yes_," she breathed, her mouth pressing against Santana's shoulder in an effort to keep herself quiet.

When she pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting hazel as she guided the head of the phallus to the blonde's entrance, replacing her fingers, there was a question in her gaze – Quinn merely nodded, her eyes falling closed as Santana pressed her hips forward gently, stilling after an inch or so to test the blonde's reaction.

"It's okay," she murmured, hands finding Santana's hips to encourage her forward as their lips met once more. Her hips rocked forward gently, and Quinn felt fuller than ever before and _God_ it felt good.

Santana set up a slow rhythm, her hands splayed on either side of the blonde's head to keep herself steady. Quinn matched each one of her thrusts, her legs wrapping around the brunette's waist in order to push her deeper, groaning at the feeling.

"This was a good idea," Santana breathed against Quinn's lips, and the blonde had to agree, her fingers digging harder into tanned hips as they started to move faster, each thrust sending her closer to the edge, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her whole body.

"Definitely," she moaned back, her back arching as one of Santana's hands moved between their bodies to press a thumb delicately to the blonde's clit – already sensitive from one orgasm, it sent her spiralling over the edge with another thrust of Santana's hips pressing deep inside of her. She clutched desperately at the brunette when she came, biting down on her shoulder in order to keep herself quiet – she felt Santana do the same as she, too, came undone.

Afterwards, sweaty and exhausted, they sprawled against one another, Quinn on her back and Santana lying across her, face pressed against the blonde's neck.

"I love you," Santana murmured, so quietly that Quinn barely heard her – but as her mind processed the words she felt like her heart had stopped, unsure that she'd ever hear them fall from the brunette's lips. She glanced down the see dark, scared eyes gazing back up at her, and she smiled and leant down to press a gentle kiss to Santana's forehead.

"I love you, too."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:**** This is technically the final chapter - the next will be more of an epilogue than anything else, and will hopefully be posted in the next couple of days :)**

* * *

"I almost miss the two of you arguing all the time," Kurt called over to where she and Santana were sat, curled up on the couch with their hands entwined, Quinn's head resting on the brunette's shoulder.

"Yeah, I don't think you do," Rachel interjected, from beside him.

"But at least then I wouldn't be concerned on walking in on them in various states of undress."

"We can hear you, you know," Santana spoke up, but there was no menace to her words. "Besides," the brunette continued, "you haven't caught us _once _since you got back from Lima."

"We've been here for less than twenty four hours, Santana," Kurt replied, exasperated, and Quinn laughed at the look on his face.

"Semantics," the brunette replied with a wave of her hand, ignoring the way Kurt and Rachel both rolled their eyes in unison. She and Santana had been back for a further week, the blonde being desperate to escape from Lima as soon as possible. She'd met up with her mother only once more before leaving, but the memory wasn't her fondest.

"_I'm not leaving him, Quinnie. Not yet, anyway." They'd been back at the Lima Bean the morning before she was due to head back to New York, and Quinn felt as though her world was crumbling around her. _

"_What?"_

"_I'm sorry, baby, I just - " But the blonde had lurched back from Judy's outstretched hand, clambering to her feet so fast that it sent the drinks on the table flying, spilling their contents over the wood. _

"_No. I-I need to go." _

"_I'm not going to tell him about… about you." Judy's words had stopped Quinn in her tracks and she listened, staring intently ahead. "I want to test the waters first."_

"_And if he'll never be okay with it? If he wants to kick me out, disown me?" She forced herself to look down at her mother, their eyes meeting, hers holding steely resolve. "What then?"_

"_We'll just have to see." Disgusted, the blonde had left, running into the comforting arms of Santana, who had been waiting in the car outside. As the brunette's arms had wrapped around her, murmuring encouragements into her ear, Quinn had glanced up, through the window, to see her mother watching them with a sad, sad smile on her face. _

Less than five days later she'd received a text – _I'm sorry about the other day, I take it all back. I've left him again; I hope you can forgive me_.

She'd been confused, to say the least, but a phonecall had soon cleared up matters – apparently Russell had promised to stop drinking before Judy had agreed to let him move back in, but it hadn't lasted and he'd gotten steadily more violent over the last couple of weeks. It was only with the intervention of the next door neighbour, who had called the police after what must have been a particularly loud and aggressive altercation, that Judy had admitted to her daughter that she had managed to find the strength to leave him for the second time, realising how destructive their relationship was and was filing for divorce instead of estrangement, as had been their original plan.

"You okay, babe?" Santana's voice startled her out of her thoughts, and Quinn glanced up to see the brunette gazing down at her with slight concern.

"Yeah I'm fine," she smiled, and titled her head back to allow the soft press of Santana's lips to her mouth, sighing softly in contentment.

"If you two start making out I'm going to get some water to throw on you," Kurt warned, and the pair separated hastily, Santana glaring over at her roommate, who just smiled serenely back. "So you guys still coming to the show tomorrow?"

"Are you kidding?" Quinn replied as she rested her head on Santana's shoulder. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You nervous?"

"Yes," Kurt replied, while Rachel and Brody both said the opposite. "Oh, come on," he turned his gaze to the other couple, raising an eyebrow. "Not even a little?"

"Nerves are for the unprepared," Rachel answered, which just made Kurt shake his head in exasperation.

"And you, Brody?"

"I don't get nervous," he shrugged. "I'm just looking forward to it." Quinn had to agree with him, because she was excited to see her three friends on stage, especially with knowing how much it meant to all of them – for Brody, it was his chance to get scouted by casting directors before he even began his senior year, and it was a good chance for Kurt and Rachel to get their names out there, too. Not to mention how good she knew the show would be, with the three of them in it.

"We should go out to celebrate afterwards," Santana declared. "Seeing as you two lovebird will be heading down to Montana in three days, and Kurt will be going back to Lima to spend some time with his dad – it'll be the last time we're all together for a while."

"Aw, Santana, are you gonna miss us?" Rachel teased, grinning, and Quinn knew that it was true, even though the brunette would vehemently deny it.

"Fuck no, but Quinn will and I'm just considerate like that."

"Yeah, sure." Rachel exchanged a knowing look with the blonde from across the room. "Alright then, where do you want to go?"

x-x-x

"This had better be good," Santana murmured as she and Quinn walked into the darkened theatre, their hands linked as they walked as quickly as they could down the aisle to the front row – they _would _have been on time, but Santana had decided to leap into the shower with Quinn and _that _had led to really amazing sex which, of course, had made them late - over thirty minutes late.

Luckily though the show hadn't started, and though they earned dirty looks from the people who had to stand up in order to let them past to get to their seats, Quinn liked to think that all in all it was a successful mission.

"I'm sure it will be," she replied to Santana's earlier statement as she made herself comfortable, flicking through the programme they'd been brandished with upon collecting their tickets, even though she could barely made out the text with the low lighting above.

She could see enough to be able to make out Kurt, Rachel and Brody's names, though, and it made her feel strangely proud – she was happy for them all, and hoped that it was a sign of good things for all of them in the future.

The show was the student's take on _Chicago_, and Quinn was surprised at how much creative licence they could take with such an iconic musical, but they made it their own – Brody, especially, shone in his role as the lawyer Billy Flynn, though the blonde heard the whispered conversation of some of the talent scouts behind her and Santana raving about Rachel's performance, too. She shone on stage, somehow managing to be the centre of attention despite having a minor role, and her voice was as good as ever – even Santana was impressed.

The interval came and went, and the second half of the musical sped by, Quinn completely enraptured even though she knew the plot and the songs in and out, thanks to Rachel's musical education over the Christmas break. At the end there was a standing ovation, and Quinn clapped until her hands were sore, smiling the whole time.

"That was really good," Santana murmured into her ear once things had started to quiet down and people had started to leave, sounding equally surprised and impressed, and Quinn nodded in agreement.

They had backstage passes, and headed for the dressing rooms as everyone else headed towards the back, slipping through a nondescript door to the side of the stage and somehow managed to find their friends through the maze of corridors beyond.

Rachel was practically glowing when Quinn hugged her, but Brody's grin was the widest as he separated from his conversation with someone in a suit, accepting the business card he was handed before the guy turned and walked away.

"Who was that?" Santana asked when the guy had left.

"_That _was the casting director for the next version of _West Side Story – _he wants me to audition next month, said he'd put in a good word for me, and that I could make it work around my senior year at NYADA."

"That's amazing!" Rachel was the first to respond, practically jumping into his arms and kissing him soundly – both Kurt and Santana made the exact same face of disgust at the same time.

"Oh, you can't look like that," Kurt said as soon as he noticed the expression on the brunette's face, "when I have seen you and Quinn doing worse things."

"You ever gonna let that go?"

"Never. I have emotional scarring for life – the dining room table is for _eating_, Santana not - "

"Well technically," the brunette cut him off, and Quinn prepared herself for complete and utter mortification because that was the only way this conversation would lead, "I _was _eating."

"Quinn does not count as food," he pointed out.

"Oh, my God." Quinn's head dropped onto Santana's shoulder, and she could feel her shaking with laughter. "Not funny!" She hissed, nudging her in the side.

"You're mistaken, it was, and remains to be, extremely funny – just look at Kurt's face!" Reluctantly she spared a glance towards him, to see him shaking his head in disappointment – that day really wasn't the fondest memory for any of them.

Well, except for Santana, it seemed.

"Well come on losers," the brunette called when Brody and Rachel finally separated. "Are we going out to have fun or not?"

"We are," Brody answered, leading the five of them towards one of the doors that led out of the theatre. "But the three of us get to pick where we go."

"This is _not _going to fun," Santana murmured into Quinn's ear as they left, and the blonde laughed, her fingers tangling with the brunette's as they stepped out into the humid New York air.

"This way." Brody and Rachel led them to a non-descript bar a couple of blocks away, with a large sign in the window proclaiming 'karaoke night, everyone welcome'.

"Told ya."

"Oh, come on, it might be fun."

"I doubt that."

"Well, I'll just get you drunk, then," Quinn decided, grinning when the brunette nodded and pressed their lips together for a brief kiss. Shots were soon ordered for all of them, and it wasn't long before Quinn's head started to feel a little hazy.

"Quinn, come sing with me?" Rachel asked, handing the blonde another drink, an innocent look on her face as Quinn's eyebrows knotted into a frown.

"What? No, I'm nowhere near as good as you. Do you keep giving me alcohol in the hope that I'll get drunk enough to go on stage with you?"

"That is an absurd accusation, Quinn and I am - "

"That was her plan, Quinn, yes." Brody cut his girlfriend off and promptly ducked behind Kurt as the diva turned around to face him.

"Whoa let's not use me as a human shield!" Kurt spoke hastily, holding his hands out in-front of him as Rachel glared at him, too. "I'm just an innocent bystander."

"Come on, Quinn," Rachel turned back to the blonde, pouting now. "Just one song? Please? We only ever did one duet in glee."

"Yeah, and there was a _reason _for that, Rach," the blonde pointed out, taking another swig of the beer in her hand. "No way."

"What if Santana came with us?"

"What?" Santana had been engaged in a conversation with Brody about something to do with sports previously, but she turned at the sound of her name, one eyebrow quirking upwards. "Why are you giving me puppy dog eyes?"

"Because Quinn won't sing with me unless you come, too."

"That is _not _true!" The blonde cut in hastily as Santana's eyes turned to her. "I said I wasn't singing at all."

"But Santana," Rachel interrupted. "It'll be fun."

"How?"

"You can't seriously be entertaining the idea," Quinn muttered into the brunette's ear, panic rising slightly in her throat – she liked singing, sure, but not in-front of a room full of strangers she didn't know. Glee club had been different, they'd practised endlessly, but she could barely even remember the last time she'd really, seriously practised a song.

"I'll…" Rachel stopped, looking thoughtful, her eyes on the taller brunette's face. "I won't hassle you for a _month _about doing chores, or about leaving mess, or about much of anything, really."

"You won't _be _here for the next month, Berry," Santana pointed out and Rachel made a face at being caught out.

"_Fine_, we'll start it from when I go back to NYADA. No nagging, about anything. And in return, you and Quinn come up on stage with me for one song. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Santana!" Quinn cried as the two shook hands. "I'm not going up there."

"Yeah you are," Santana smirked, her eyes running lazily up the blonde's figure, lingering at her chest for a second too long. "As otherwise," Santana's voice dropped down to a whisper as she stepped closer to the blonde, so the others wouldn't be able to hear. "I won't fuck you how I promised to later, ever again."

"You wouldn't," the blonde countered, but Santana's smirk only widened.

"Oh, I would. My toys, my rules," she murmured into the blonde's ear, breath hot against her skin, and Quinn shivered.

"Fuck. Fine, okay, whatever."

"Correct answer. Come on." Santana took her hand and all but dragged her over to the side of the stage at the front of the bar, where people selected their songs. Rachel was in the lead and was already speaking to the guy at the side.

"What are we even singing?"

"I don't know," the brunette shrugged, squeezing the blonde's hand gently. "You don't need to be so nervous, Q, you're amazing."

"No I'm not," she scoffed, as Rachel came back to stand with them, practically beaming. "Not compared to you two."

"Stop putting yourself down," Rachel chided, and Santana nodded, agreeing. "We're on after these guys," she continued, nodding up to the couple who had just stepped on stage.

"So, what's the song?"

"Don't stop believing," Rachel answered the blonde, face blank, before she grinned. "Just kidding. I thought we could do Edge of Glory, like we did at Nationals?"

"Do we have any choice in the matter?" Santana teased, and Quinn smiled, adoring the fact that the two got along so well now.

"Only if you hate the idea."

"That's a no, then," Quinn supplied helpfully, and Santana nudged her lightly with her hip. The music from the couple before them came to an end, and then she was being led up the steps, one hand in Santana's and the other in Rachel's.

"You can do this, Q," Santana murmured into her ear as she handed her a microphone. "Just imagine what we'll be doing later, that oughta get you through it."

"Not helping!" She hissed back and the brunette laughed, and Rachel shot them both a warning look as the music started to play.

She actually managed to remember all the words, which was a plus – and it wasn't as bad as she'd been expecting. It helped having Santana beside her, throwing her reassuring looks every few seconds, and being next to someone like Rachel, who exuded confidence from being on-stage helped, too.

When it was over applause rippled around the bar, and she even managed a terrified half-smile before hopping down from the stage onto the floor. Rachel was exuberant as she bounded back to their table where the boys waited, both grinning.

"That was amazing," Brody called over the sound of the next group starting to sing. "Really, really amazing."

"Now can we go up?" Rachel's puppy dog eyes were on him, then, and he had little choice but to agree – he was soon dragged away towards the stage, and Kurt disappeared off to another table having spotted a few of his friends from NYADA.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" Santana murmured, her arms wrapping around the blonde's waist and pulling her close, resting her head on her shoulder.

"I guess not," Quinn reluctantly agreed, leaning back into the brunette's embrace. "I'd much rather be doing other things, though."

"Yeah? Like what?" Santana's voice dropped to a lower register, turning sultry as her mouth moved to the blonde's ear.

"Mm, like you." She turned in Santana's arms, winding her arms around her neck and kissed her, moaning softly when the brunette's tongue parted her lips, and she crushed herself closer. Distantly, she was aware of the sound of a ballad filtering through the speakers laid around the bar, and Rachel and Brody's voices filling the room, but it took second place to the heat of Santana's mouth, and the softness of her skin.

"We should leave," the brunette murmured when they parted, breathing heavy, as her fingers traced down the blonde's thighs gently, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Now."

"We can't," Quinn replied, reluctantly, gasping softly as Santana's fingertips dug in lightly. "It'd be rude."

"Since when have you ever known me to give a fuck about being rude?" Her breath was warm as it brushed across Quinn's lips, and the blonde's eyes closed, her fingers curling around the back of the brunette's neck.

"_I _give a fuck, though – we won't see them for ages after tonight."

"There's always the morning."

"As if you'll be awake when they leave."

"_Quinn_." The blonde didn't need to open her eyes to know that the brunette was pouting, but she just smiled, shaking her head.

"Later," she promised, before pressing their lips together once more for a chaste kiss before turning back around and pressing her back against the brunette's chest again. "Later."

x-x-x

"You didn't mind me coming to see you, did you?" Judy's voice was wavering, uncertain, as she regarded her daughter from across the table that separated them. They were in some swanky restaurant in downtown Manhattan, her mom having come up for a couple of days to 'repair their relationship'. Quinn wasn't so convinced, but hey, if Judy was willing to try… well, so was she.

"No, it's okay."

"So you're staying with your friends here?"

"Uh, kinda. It's only Santana and I there at the minute though, the others are all away." She and Santana had had the apartment to themselves for just over a week – and it was amazing.

She'd even gotten a job, so that she wasn't just sat around doing nothing on the evenings Santana worked, as a waitress. It wasn't exactly glamorous work, but it got her some much needed cash, seeing as she was insisting on paying rent for staying in the loft.

"Oh. And you and Santana… You're together?" Quinn looked up sharply at that, pausing in her perusal of the menu in her hands, her eyes meeting Judy's warily.

"Why would you think that?" She asked carefully – it was one thing for her ultra-conservative mother to say that she could come to terms with her daughter's sexuality, but it was an entirely different thing to know that she had a girlfriend, and was _living _with said girlfriend.

"I saw you outside the Lima Bean that day. You looked… Well, I don't really know how to describe it, but you looked like you were together. And it's okay, you know. I've not always been there for you, Quinn, I know that, but I'm serious about this – I want to put the past behind us. I want you to be able to trust me again."

"It's not that I don't trust you, Mom," Quinn said, casting her eyes downward. "And yeah, we are together."

"For how long?"

"Not that long," the blonde shrugged. "Couple months, why?"

"I was just wondering. Is… Where is she tonight?"

"She's working." The brunette hadn't exactly been thrilled with letting Quinn go alone that night, but her boss was still on her ass about her disappearing for a week to go back home, and the blonde had insisted that she didn't miss another shift over her.

"Oh, so she wouldn't be able to join us?"

"What?"

"If you're serious about her, Quinn," Judy said patiently, her eyes shining with sincerity as they met her daughter's across the table. "Then I want to be supportive. And if you had a new boyfriend, then I'd want to get to know them over dinner… This isn't really all that different."

"But you already _know _Santana," Quinn pointed out, and her mother nodded thoughtfully.

"True, but not all that well. You didn't seem to want your friends around your father and I for very long, which is understandable. So I'd like to get to know her a little better, especially now."

"Okay," Quinn answered uncertainly, pulling her phone out of her pocket, "I can't remember what time she said she was finishing tonight, but I'll ask." She typed out a quick text and then sent it, receiving a reply a few moments later.

_I actually just got off, he wants me to come in for longer tomorrow instead to cover for someone, is she serious? _

_Yeah, I think so. You remember where I said we were going?_

_Sure, I'll be there as soon as I can. _

"She's on her way," she said neutrally, and Judy nodded, closing her menu in-front of her and signalling to the nearest waiter.

"Would it be alright if another person joined us?"

"Sure, sure, I'll go get you an extra menu."

"Thanks," Judy smiled at him before turning her gaze back to her daughter. "So, where does she work?"

"At a bar a couple of blocks from here. She takes dance classes in the day."

"So she doesn't want to go back to college?"

"No. Don't look at me like that – I know you think that education is the most important thing in the world, but it's not like that for everyone. She hated college in Louisville; at least she's doing something she enjoys now."

"You don't have to defend her to me, Quinn. I really am okay with this, if you're happy, I told you. Okay?" The blonde nodded, looking away again, only lifting her eyes when her phone buzzed again.

_I'm outside, where are you sat? _

"Hey," Santana called when she reached their table, sliding easily into the seat beside Quinn and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, no doubt testing the water. Judy's face stayed passive, which Quinn took as a good sign. "Ms Fabray."

"Judy, Santana, honestly. Glad you could join us."

"Yeah, me too." The brunette glanced quickly over the menu before closing it, and the waiter from before soon appeared to take their orders. Quinn felt tense, though she had no reason to be – not yet, anyway. Santana's hand rested lightly on her thigh under the table and squeezed gently, comfortingly.

"So, Santana, Quinn tells me you're working?"

"Uh, yeah. It's the best job in the world, but," she shrugged before taking a sip from the glass of water she'd order. "It pays the rent."

"And do you have plans for the future?"

"No," she answered honestly, her eyes meeting Judy's head on. "I don't. Not yet, at least – I spent so long trying to force myself to choose a career path, and ended up doing something I hated. When I find what I want to do, I'll know it. But until then…"

"And are you serious about being with my daughter?"

"Mom," Quinn groaned, refraining from dropping her head to the table in embarrassment. "Can we not do an interrogation right now?"

"I'm just _asking _Quinn."

"Yes," Santana spared the blonde from asking, her eyes flickering to meet hazel before turning back to the blonde's mother. "I am. I'd be happy to spend the rest of my life with her, if she'd have me."

The words made Quinn smile softly, and her mind race – Santana had never really been all that open and honest with how she was feeling, preferring to show it rather than tell, but to hear it said aloud made the blonde's heart sing.

"That's an awfully bold statement to make, considering you haven't been together for very long."

"Judy," Santana said seriously, her face turning earnest. "We didn't have the best start, Quinn and I, I'll be the first one to admit that – but I'm in this, now. I love her, and I would do anything for her. Believe me when I say that I have no intention of hurting her ever again."

"Okay," Judy spoke again after a slight pause. "I can see that you mean that. Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment…" The elder Fabray woman stood and disappeared in the direction of the ladies bathroom, leaving Quinn and Santana alone.

"Your mother is a very scary lady, Q."

"If you're expecting me to disagree with you then you're wrong."

"How are you, anyway? Was it okay before I got here?" The brunette's eyes met hers, searching her face for any trace of negativity, but the blonde just nodded.

"Yeah, it was fine. She actually does seem alright with everything… It's just hard to accept that she does."

"You'll get used to it soon enough, I'm sure." Santana smiled softly, and Quinn couldn't resist leaning forward a few inches and kissing her soundly. "I thought that PDA in an eating establishment was - "

"Shut up," she murmured, cutting the brunette off with another kiss. When she pulled back the brunette was grinning. "That was Rachel, anyway, who said that."

"Yeah, but you agreed with her."

"Technicalities," the blonde shrugged, noticing Judy making her way back towards them. "Let's just hope that the rest of tonight goes as good as it has been so far."


	20. Epilogue

_Two years later..._

"Why do you have to own so much stuff, Q?" Santana's voice and subsequent sigh echoed through the apartment and the blonde grinned, sticking her head out of the bedroom door to see the brunette hauling in another cardboard box.

"It's not _that _much," she countered, and Santana shot her a disbelieving look as she passed, on her way to the kitchen, which was what the box was labelled with.

"Seriously? Come here." Quinn followed the sound of the brunette's voice into the kitchen, down the hall from the bedroom, to find her girlfriend standing in the centre of the open plan kitchen/living area, which at that moment was littered with about seven boxes already. "Look at that. That is a _lot _of stuff."

"Is not."

"Uh, yes it is. Judy," Santana collared Quinn's mom as the blonde woman came through the doorway with another box. "Doesn't she have an excessive amount of boxes?"

"Yes."

"Mom!"

"What? I'm only being honest. I swear you've gained double the amount of things in the last year…"

"Why does everyone always have to gang up on me?" Quinn pouted, but it only served to make Judy shake her head and Santana laugh.

"It's because it's so damn entertaining," Maribel Lopez added, her husband in tow, three boxes in their arms between them. "There, I think that's it."

"Now we just need to put it away," Santana mused, looking around thoughtfully, no doubt wondering where everything was going to fit.

"Ah, but that's a job for the two of you, not the rest of us," the brunette's father spoke up, his eyes twinkling. Dr Lopez always made Quinn nervous – he'd always been intimidating, on the few occasions that she'd seen him during her and Santana's high school years, but now that she was dating his daughter? Now he was a _lot _more intimidating.

"You're not even gonna help a little?" Santana asked.

"Nope. We will take you out for some food though before we leave. Do you want to ask your friends if they want to come, too?" Maribel's voice was warm, and Quinn was the one to answer.

"Yeah, I'll go see them now." She left Santana with Judy and her parents and made the short trip from their apartment to the one across the hall, where Brody and Rachel had moved in last week. It had taken a good three months of searching to find apartments that were both affordable and close to each other in the city, but they'd managed, eventually.

Quinn had graduated from Yale with near perfect grades, and was going on to start an additional year of study at Columbia. Santana was in her second year of training to become a dance teacher having finally decided what she wanted to do with her life. Brody had been on Broadway for a year, having gotten the role in _West Side Story_ during his senior year, and both Rachel and Kurt were just starting out, with both having an endless list of auditions.

"Hey," Rachel opened the door after the blonde had knocked twice, a huge smile on her face. "You all moved in?"

"Not exactly, but we're gonna go and get some food if you want to join us?"

"I'll just go and ask the boys, if you want to come in?" Quinn shut the door behind her with a gentle click and padded into the apartment beyond. It was two bedrooms, unlike hers and Santana's – Kurt and Blaine (with who he'd gotten back together with during his second year at NYADA, when Blaine had also moved to New York), had one, and Rachel and Brody the other.

Even though the four of them had only been there a week, it was difficult to tell that – the whole place was already decorated to the max, and looked well and truly lived in. Blaine and Brody were sat side by side on the couch when the blonde made it to the living room, and both waved in greeting when they noticed her.

"Kurt's just in the shower but when he's done we'd love to come with you," Blaine said with a smile, and Brody nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, food is good."

"Cool. We'll meet you in the hall in… fifteen minutes?"

"I'll walk you out," Rachel murmured when they were all in agreement, her hand warm on the small of the blonde's back as she guided her back to the door. "It's weird, isn't it?" She asked as they paused in the doorway.

"What is?"

"Just being here. I mean, we're not in college any more, we're starting careers, we're moving in with our partner's… I don't know," the brunette shrugged. "I don't feel old enough for it all, somehow."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But it's nice for us all to be together. And anyway, we've technically all lived together before."

"Well, I guess, but still. It feels different. But at least," the brunette's eyes sparkled as they met the blonde's, "I don't have to worry about walking in on you and Santana having sex ever again."

"I make no promises," she grinned as she slid out of the door, heading back across the hall. She went to the bedroom first to make herself more presentable – after a two day long road trip up to New York from Lima with her belongings from home she was feeling a little gross and was sure that she didn't look her best.

Santana was already in there, checking her make-up in the mirror on the vanity table set up in one corner. The brunette had moved in when Rachel and Brody had, when the lease on the loft had run out, so had already unpacked all of her own stuff, along with some of Quinn's that the blonde had dropped off on her way back from Yale to Lima.

"Hey," the brunette smiled softly when she noticed the blonde standing behind her, turning to pull her into her arms and pressing their lips together gently. "Freaking out yet?"

"And why would I do that?" She looped her arms around the brunette's neck and stepped closer so that they were chest-to-chest. Things hadn't always run smoothly with them over the last two years, especially with the distance factor, but they'd come through it all stronger on the other side.

"It's a big step, moving in together," the brunette shrugged, and Quinn swore that she saw a flash of insecurity in the brunette's eyes.

"I know, and it's one that we decided on together, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I just wanted to make sure." Quinn rolled her eyes and kissed the brunette again, taking her bottom lip between her own and feeling a content sigh escape the other woman as her hands tightened at the blonde's waist.

"I love you," she reminded her when they parted, and the smile on Santana's face was radiant. "So much."

"And I love you."

"Girls?" Maribel's voice filtered through the closed bedroom door, interrupting the moment. "Are you both ready?"

"Yeah, Mom," Santana called back, stepping away from the blonde but grabbing for her hand. "We'll be out in a sec."

"Let me just get changed," the blonde murmured, stepped away from Santana after kissing her cheek gently. She could feel the brunette's eyes on her as she stripped off her t-shirt, exchanging it for a clean one, and then changing her shoes, too. "Presentable enough?"

"You look perfect."

* * *

**A/N: ****Okay, so this is pretty short, and I could have easily carried on writing for pages more, but I think it works okay as it is. I know a few people said they wanted to see their life a few years into the future, and I always had that idea, too. I did want to include a scene with Quinn and Russell, but I don't think it would have fit very well as a flashback here. **

**I'm not sure what's next for me, but it probably won't, at this stage, be another Quinntana story. I do want to write one of them in high school, perhaps, but that might not be for a while - there are a few other fandoms I want to dabble in first, though. **

**Finally I just want to again thank everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story, it means so much to know that you enjoyed the journey of Quinn and Santana, and I hope you like where it ended up. **

**If you want to keep up with anything else I might write in the future, alert me on here or even follow me on tumblr, my URL for now is shutupberry. **

**Thank you all again! **

**CC.**


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